


Chiaroscuro

by katyhorrorpictureshow



Category: Ghost (Swedish Band)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Cults, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time Blow Jobs, Gangbang, Las Vegas, Loss of Virginity, Masks, Oral Sex, Pregnancy, Rituals, Self-Sacrifice, Soul-Searching, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-25 02:24:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 55
Words: 107,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4943095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katyhorrorpictureshow/pseuds/katyhorrorpictureshow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rosalie Hammond is a photojournalist for the magazine Rock Uncovered. When she receives an assignment to interview one of the Nameless Ghouls from Ghost, she is initially reluctant but eager to discover the mysteries the band holds dear. But when the show is over and the night is young, Rosalie discovers she will have to enter Ghost's world of pleasure and pain to find the answers she seeks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Assignment

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This fic deals with very dark themes including cult-like behaviors, manipulation, and sexual abuse and violence. I don't condone any of the characters' actions within this story. Please read at your own discretion.
> 
> Wanna see what inspired me to write this story? Check out the [Pinterest board](https://www.pinterest.com/theusherette/chiaroscuro/)!

**OCTOBER 2013**

**LAS VEGAS, NEVADA**

My eyes stung in strain, glued to the words I typed. Discussing the theories behind Kurt Cobain's death wasn't the easiest of my assignments. There were so many vantage points popping in my head that I couldn't pick one to spring from. Drug abuse, alcoholism, interference from Courtney Love? Looking over the police reports and Kurt's own suicide note weren't as helpful as I thought they'd be, but in the end, it's good to start somewhere. Unearthing and dissecting the evidence was the key to finally getting a satisfying answer. After all, my job is to report the truth, or at least what I'm able to dig up.

All the journalists at Rock Uncovered strive to provide the truest, rawest facts about the rock and metal scene. In fact, we're considered one of the best indie rock magazines currently out there, as my boss, Mr. Samuel Berkeley, consistently reminds me and my fellow staff members with pride. We needed to sound 'edgy for the kids' and 'sleek for the adults', he always says, like we were a bunch of children that didn't understand the basics of our jobs. I'm pretty sure I knew the basics of my job well. After all, I've been told that I'm one of Berkeley's top reporters for a reason. I wasn't some detective meddling around for clues. I'm a reporter, and to get the secrets put out there, I had to risk my life in the name of exploitation.

"Hey, Hammond!" Berkeley knocked on my door, startling me from thinking of another word for 'tragic'. "Let me in! I've got a fantastic new idea for the next issue!"

Sighing, I saved my rough draft and turned off my Nirvana playlist.

"Come on in!"

Berkeley bounced in with an ecstatic, caffeine-fueled frenzy, his habits of binge-drinking coffee getting the best of him again. Berkeley's default emotions were few and far in between. He could either be ignited by pure excitement when a rather scandalous band agreed to be featured in a new issue or fired up by pure rage when said band discovered what they signed up for a bit too late into the game and threatened to press charges. Of course, Berkeley always defended his reporters, reassuring us that, "We need the article or else the issue will be shit! Hello, why are we called Rock Uncovered again?"

“You're excited today, Berkeley." I spun my chair around to face my boss. As usual, he wore the a-bit-too-wide grin that seemed permanently fixed on his face full of Botox. "Let me guess, we've finally scored Rob Zombie."

“How many times do I have to tell you, Rosie?” Berkeley chastised. “You’re allowed to call me Sam! We've been pretty well acquainted, haven't we? But anyway, let me cut to the chase here. There's this band that's playing a three month gig over at Mandalay Bay, and they look absolutely nuts. They’re coming all the way from Sweden! Isn’t that amazing, Sweden?” 

"So basically, a Celine Dion sort of thing?"

“You could say that.” Berkeley also had a habit of pacing around people's desks like he was some animal in search for food, and that was exactly what he proceeded to do around the little island I had set up. “Oh my God, the rumors surrounding this band are crazy! They all think they’re Satanists. Like, the lead singer is this guy who wears upside-down crosses and shit, and the guitarists look like they’re Darth Vader’s medieval ancestors."

I feigned a polite smile.

"Well, if they look like Darth Vader I'm going to need to know who they are."

“They’re called Ghost, ever heard of them?” Before I was able to answer, Berkeley added, “Look them up!” 

I spun back to my Macbook to Google ‘Ghost’. After adjusting my search, several photos of a man wearing a pope mitre, a black and green chasuble scattered with some kind of inverted cross, and skeletal greasepaint on his face appeared, surrounded by five hooded figures wearing black Venetian Carnival masks. I didn't quite understand why Berkeley was freaking out - these guys were just a KISS ripoff with some Iron Maiden thrown in for good measure. In these days, it was pretty rare to see a band use shock value and anonymity to look unique, unless they were an electronic act like Daft Punk. Everyone just followed the whole ‘look and sound pretty’ concept, keeping their slowly crumbling lives behind the scenes... that was, until we intrusive reporters found out their secrets.

"Look at that massive congregation, Hammond." Berkeley joined my side, the childlike wonder in his eyes brightened by the Macbook screen's bluish glow. "It's all a bunch of creepy hoopla, but it works. I bet you they're harmless."

"Harmless as in wearing stupid costumes to attract attention?" I asked dryly.

"Rosie, this is what we call shock value. The costumes and masks are just there for the atmosphere, y’know? After all, it’s a new trend, keeping your true personality a secret. And they’re doing it very well. Think how they’ll sell because of their whole shtick! They’ll get the money rolling for both them _and_ for us! After all, nobody’s going to know who they truly are until we reveal what we can! It's a _very_ smart business practice, if I say so myself."

Sometimes, Berkeley blew things out of proportion or over-elaborated on certain subjects. He tried to find symbolism in things where you either couldn’t find it or where it was too blatant, like some high school student writing a superfluous English lit essay. The man was in his early-fifties at most and probably missed his more youthful days, so he desperately tried in fit in with the rest of the staff, trying to adapt to their slang and fresher ways of thinking. It never worked well.

“Now lookie here." Berkeley reached into his coat pocket and retrieved two tickets. "I got you two tickets to Ghost’s first gig tomorrow. Bring a friend, if you want. I also booked you an interview with one of those Nameless Ghouls, and trust me, it wasn't easy. I really want you to grind into his gears, ask him questions most haven’t asked before. Oh! And try to bring up those after-parties I’ve been hearing about on the Internet.”

“And you'll probably want me to sneak into that,” I muttered under my breath.

“Hammond, that’s a brilliant idea!” Fuck, he heard me! “Look, I know your attitude, Rosalie, and it’s to do whatever it takes to write a good story. With Ghost, it won’t be any different, just more… ah… what’s the word for it…”

“Ridiculous?”

“Scandalous! Yup, there’s the word. So, now you’ve got the mission at hand. Interview the Ghoul, watch the show, and try to follow them out to their creepy ritual after-party. Got it?”

“I think I’ve got everything down." I would have to ask the band annoying questions, watch their show, act like a groupie who fell for the band’s Satanist shtick. “So, you basically want me to be an incognito groupie."

“Not quite, but if you do ever get close to that stage, or better yet, in a hotel room with one of those Nameless Ghouls, feel free to let me know. After all, we've got to risk all to find out their secrets!”

"Sam, we both know that's never going to happen."

"We'll see about that!"

Berkeley left my office, crowing that I was the only member of the staff who actually tolerated his remarks. Sighing, I put my headphones over my ears and looked up Ghost on Spotify. Their latest album, "Infestissumam", popped up first. The cover boasted shades of yellow and orange, the colors of a vibrant sunrise. A drawn likeness of an unusual, skeletal pope loomed over a medieval village and, weirdly enough, a baby with whitened eyes wearing a mask on his head. 

I stared at the subversive imagery for a bit. What was this all supposed to mean? The birth of the Antichrist? The danger of Papa's supposed reign?

"What the actual fuck are you getting me into, Berkeley?"

I took a swig of coffee from my thermos as I skipped the minute long intro track and dove right into the first song, 'Per Aspera Ad Inferi', to get a proper, quick taste of the band's sound. The strangely youthful voice of the band's singer, a fellow who called himself Papa Emeritus II, clashed with how old he appeared without his skull makeup. It was probably yet another gimmick, maybe some 'deal with the devil' bullshit the band used as a backstory. Nevertheless, his costume and aesthetic were pretty remarkable. 

I muted my music to watch a mini documentary about Papa, called "Papaganda: The Olde One." I couldn't help but chuckle as Papa warmed up his vocal chords while applying black greasepaint over his eyes, going from a bald mafia leader-looking man into a Satanic pope. In a few interview segments, Papa mused about living out his golden years as Ghost's poster boy, mainly in it for the women. A Nameless Ghoul further backed this up, discussing how Papa was too old to care about practically everything, but then again, the first did acted the same way. Papa I was spoiled like vinegar and had an authoritative streak, droned the current Papa, and was sacked because he didn't live up to his supposed leadership skills. 

I watched this all unfold with the fading attention of a history student. No cohesive thoughts came to my head aside from what was fake and what was real? The boundary remained difficult to decipher.

I returned to my music, the track now an eerie waltz called 'Secular Haze'. I switched over to doing research on the Nameless Ghouls, the anonymous musicians of the band. In addition to their Venetian masks and hoods, they wore black, clergyman cassocks and necklaces of that strange cross, as they were Papa's apostles tasked with spreading his dark message to the masses. All but their eyes and hands were hidden, and even then, their eyes were slathered over with black paint, making them look more monster underneath than human. They almost reminded me of the Grim Reaper, Death himself, as he waited for you to succumb to his power and suck up your soul. Their menacing postures and glaring eyes made this all the more obvious.

Searching through concert photos, I couldn't help but feel oddly drawn to these Nameless Ghouls, especially the rhythm guitarist, with his beautiful blue eyes and gentle giant stature. Crushing on someone who kept his face hidden was an interesting fantasy to have, but then I remembered what Berkeley said. Keeping your true self a secret was indeed an efficient business practice. No one would be able to make assumptions about you if they didn't know anything about your past, or what bands you played in. They wanted the focus to be on the music and the music alone, not the players. Despite this, the Ghouls and their anonymity made me even more curious to delve into the band's dark secrets, if they at all existed.

_Zzzz. Zzzz._

My iPhone vibrated against the hard surface of my desk, startling me away from a black-and-white photo of Papa surrounded by a few women. I scrambled away from my computer and picked up my phone, smiling when I saw my lockscreen photo of my boyfriend Damien, with his jet black hair and warm brown eyes. It was almost hard to believe I scored someone like him - caring, spirited, and a bit of a wise ass, but that wasn't to say I didn't like that part of him.

“Hey, sweetie,” I said, quickly clicking my way out of Google. 

“Same to you.” Damien's husky voice still sent chills down my spine, even though we’ve been together for two years. “Are we still up to seeing the Cirque tonight?”

“Yeah, of course!” My shift was nearly over (looking at photos and interviews of the band took up more time than I expected), so I started to pack up my Macbook as I continued to talk. “Which one are we seeing again? There’s so many that I’ve lost track of the names.”

“We’re seeing Mystêre. The poster’s got a bird on it, I think.”

“Oh yeah, the one at Treasure Island!" I paused. "Damien, do I have some news for you. The band Berkeley’s got me covering tomorrow is so fucking strange I can’t believe he’s even assigned them to me in the first place.”

“Are we talking G.G. Allin level of crazy?”

"Hell no. We're talking King Diamond level! Hang on, Damien." I walked out of my office and lowered my phone down to my hip. "Hey, Sam, I'm leaving!"

"Make me proud, Hammond!" Berkeley shouted back, his voice sounding a bit angry. The bitter aroma of freshly spilled coffee against carpet may have been a clue as to why.

I passed the rows of cubicles and headed to the elevator, going back to my phone. "Anyway, ever heard of a little band called Ghost?"

“Oh! I’ve heard of them before! They’ve got that pope guy, right?”

“Right, that’s Papa Emeritus. They're coming to town tomorrow and yours truly gets to interview one of the band members. Supposedly, they host these after-parties that are really, really weird, and of course, Berkeley wants me to sneak into one of them like I'm Mission Impossible or something.”

“You know, I have a friend who went to one of their shows back when they first started in Sweden. You remember Toby, right?”

“Isn’t he the Swede you were roommates with once?” 

“Yeah, that’s him! Anyway, he told me about the band back when they released their first record. Opus something, I think it was called. I can give him a call after my shift to see what he’s allowed to spill.”

“ _Allowed_ to spill?" My laugh echoed throughout the parking garage. "Jesus, is the band the next Manson family or something? Don’t tell me that Berkeley’s getting me into some crazy shit, or else I’ll go nuts.”

“Look, Rosie, I’ll talk to you later." Damien's voice faltered in disgust. "The dangers of Las Vegas tourism happens to be calling my name again… damn tourists can’t seem to handle themselves on the observation deck. Someone seriously just threw up their beer on the floor, and guess who's getting thrown off their lunch break to clean it up!”

“Damien!" I guffawed. "That's gross!"

“No, really, I’m not kidding! I’ll call you back, all right?”

“Of course you will, honey.”


	2. The Package

My shift always ended at 4:00 pm, the pinnacle of rush hour. The offices of Rock Uncovered were located a good five minutes or so away from the Strip, half an hour away from where I lived in Boulder City. To get home, I needed to drive through the avenue of tacky gift shops and hotels promising the best vacation of everyone's lives. At least I got to occupy myself by sometimes watching the Bellagio fountains dance or people riding the New York New York roller coaster when the traffic wouldn't budge. Damien and I lived in Nevada for two years now, but we never got the chance to truly experience our nearby city's flashier offerings, to lose ourselves to rest and relaxation. Catching a show usually served as a rare affair, so imagine my delight when Damien offered to take me Cirque du Soleil tonight. I'd been waiting for this day since I got my tax return!

Today, traffic seemed slower than usual, which meant there wasn't much to look at aside from staring up at the Venetian hotel a dozen or so times. I turned on the radio to hear what my favorite rock station, KOMP 92.3, was playing. Lo and behold, Papa's voice penetrated my eardrums once again, this time with a song I hadn't heard yet. A background choir chanted the names of what I guessed were demons, obviously something that had to do with Satan. The song created a dark, eerie atmosphere similar to that of a horror film's, kind of like I had intruded the ritual scene from Rosemary's Baby. In these days of overly censored music, how did this song even manage to slip its way to the airwaves?

"Hell Satan! Archangelo!" Papa held that note for added emphasis. "Hell Satan, Welcome Year Zero!"

"Certainly feels like it." Behind me, someone honked their horn, startling me back to my attention on the road. "All right, already! Jesus!"

After an hour of being stuck in traffic and driving down the interstate, I finally made my way home. Damien and I lived in your typical suburban two-story house in a cul de sac mostly consisting of families and retirees. I made sure to always wave to whoever I passed by on the road. Today, it were the two mothers I hadn't quite gotten the chance to talk to yet and their toddler son riding his tricycle down the sidewalk. Perhaps someday Damien and I would have kids of our own, but we decided that we wouldn't want to start a family until we were in our thirties. Still being in our mid-twenties, we wanted to milk out the excitement of life before it started getting dull.

"Snowy, baby! Hi!"

My White Terrier puppy Snowball jumped off the couch and ran to me as I entered the house. She took a discarded heel in her mouth as I flopped onto the living room couch just in time for the six o'clock news. Tonight's fare consisted of the usual stories about murder, someone getting arrested for marijuana possession, and of course, murder. No wonder why people called Vegas the City of Sin. Everyone's so meddled in flirting with crime.

The doorbell rang, startling Snowball so badly that my heel flew right of her mouth as she dashed into the parlor to bark ferociously at the surprise visitor. A dark-haired FedEx delivery man stood at the door, balancing a large package atop his wobbly knee.

"Snowball, stop it!" I scooped my dog up into my arms and opened the door with my free hand, extending my arm out taut to keep it open. "Hi. Do you need help with that?"

The delivery man didn't answer, instead staring at me with his bright green eyes.

"Uh... hello?" I waved my hand in front of his face. "I can't keep this door open for too long or else she'll run out."

"Are you Rosalina Hammond?" The delivery man finally spoke. His voice had an accent, but I couldn't place the location.

“Rosalina?" I raised a confused eyebrow. "It's Rosalie, actually. To be honest, I wasn’t expecting a package this late in the day.”

“Huh, must be a surprise or something then. Here, just sign for this.”

I let Snowball back into the house and bent down to sign for my mysterious package, mumbling a quick "Thank you" as I steadied the package underneath my arm. As the delivery man got back into his truck, I glanced down at the package to find the shipping address, but oddly enough, there wasn't one listed at all. The only evidence of the package’s whereabouts stated that it was shipped from Linköping, Sweden.

Weren't Ghost from Sweden?

I trudged upstairs to my bedroom and set the package down on my bed. After tearing off the packing tape, I lifted up the cardboard flaps, the sweet scent of factory-sealed plastic drifting into my nose. Indeed, a few Ghost-related goodies lay in the box.  _Opus Eponymous_ and _Infestissumam_ on vinyl were situated neatly next to each other, while a rosary of purple beads attached to a charm of that weird inverted cross lay buried beneath some of those white foam peanuts.

An amused smile formed on my face. Usually, I never received gifts from the bands I interviewed, so for Ghost to send me a few things before my interview was a very kind gesture... almost too kind. How did they find my address? I guess Berkeley gave it to the band's publicist. 

Then, a small scrap of paper at the bottom of the box caught my eye, shoved underneath a bottom flap as if someone purposely tried to hide it. I assumed it was just a thank you note from the band's publicist, but as I unfolded the paper, the message scrawled in messy handwriting instantly proved me wrong.

_HELL SATAN_

"Hell Satan?" I let the paper fall out of my hand. "W-what does that mean?"

“What’cha got there, Rose?”

Startled, I jolted up and glanced over my shoulder. Damien stood behind me, his Stratosphere cap worn slightly askew on his head. At least he was home early for date night!

"Someone got some swag in the mail!" Damien glanced over at my new presents. "Looks like Papa Emeritus is excited to see you."

"You think?" My blood flushed upon the mention of Papa. "He's, like, a really creepy old man. I don't think I'm very excited to see him, if you catch my drift."

“You look nervous, Rose. Is everything okay?” Damien put his cold hand on my face, chilling my burning cheek. “Woah! This girl is on fire!”

“I’m fine!” I giggled before clearing my throat. “I just have no idea who or where this all came from.”

“No way, really? Was there a return address?”

“Only says it's from Sweden, where Ghost happens to be from.” I handed Damien the cryptic note. "Also, I got this. Tell me it isn't their code that they're going to sacrifice me to Satan or some crazy shit like that."

Damien's brows furrowed in deep concentration as he read over the two cryptic words.

“They wouldn't even get anywhere close to the house, Rose. This is probably the password to get into their after-party. It explains the whole 'Hell Satan' thing.”

“Is that what Toby said?” 

“Oh yeah, I called him while I was on my break.” Damien jumped onto the bed with me. “He gave me a shit ton of info I think you could use for your article. First off, Ghost invites only those they can trust to their after-party rituals. Toby happened to be a friend of one of the Nameless Ghouls before they got too involved with the band.”

"Wait, wait, wait, their after-party _rituals_?" I scoffed in disgust. "They must really get into character with this whole Satan worshipping thing."

“I've got no idea if this is still a part of their act or not, but Toby did warn me that the lines between fantasy and reality are blurred when it comes to Ghost. No idea why. So anyway, you have to wear a mask and a hooded cloak just like the Ghouls, because the rituals focus on ‘coming together as one’, or something like that. They don’t care about your face, just your presence and your undivided attention towards the Dark Lord!”

I burst into laughter. "Wow, really? What’s next? There’s gonna be some goats running around? Or better yet, stripper nuns?"

“I think Toby might’ve been pulling my leg, Rose," Damien said sheepishly. "I mean, I’ve seen pictures from the band's concerts, and they seem pretty harmless when you look past the gimmick."

"What is this supposed to be then, some kind of religious statement?" I started to sound like Berkeley during his meltdowns, nipping at Damien’s heels for more answers that he wouldn't even know. “Where’s the Satanism concept even coming from, then? Why do they do it? It’s so bizarre.” 

“Good questions, Sherlock,” Damien said, rising from the bed to pat my shoulder, “although you might want to write those down. Looks like we’re running a little late. The show starts at nine-thirty and traffic is only going to get worse.”

I quickly glanced over at the alarm clock – 7:03 pm.

“Damn it!” A perk of my anxiety was the fear of being late, especially when there was a set time. “If we don't get to the theatre in time, they'll sell our seats!”

“Chillax, Rosalie! Traffic won't be too bad by the time we get to the Strip. We’ll get there in time, don't worry."

I took a deep breath. "Okay, Damien. I trust you."

I went into the connecting bathroom to freshen up my makeup and brush my hair back into a high ponytail. There wasn't much time to change out of my business attire - a red shirt and a black skirt - but at least I looked nice enough for our night out. Still, I added a black cardigan to my outfit while I glanced through the mirror to watch Damien change out of his Stratosphere outfit and into a navy blue button-up and a pair of khaki slacks. My boyfriend, the fashionable guy. It was rare to see Damien wearing a color other than black, just like a Nameless Ghoul.

"What?" Damien shrugged his shoulders at me from his reflection in the mirror. "I like to get dressed up every once in a while. This is our two years and three months anniversary, Rosalie!"

"I know!" I giggled. "I like when you go all out."

"Should I go all out tomorrow, then? Maybe I should wear your new inverted cross around my neck and wear all black like that guy from The Exorcist."

"Oh, God, Damien, no!" I laughed at him as I approached him at the bed. "I can't picture you looking like that at all!"

Damien gave a devilish smirk. "I'd fit in with the crowd better. And you...you could dress up like a nun!"

"Now why in the hell would I want to do that?"

"You got to loosen up a bit and have some fun, Rosalie. Not everything that appears to be dark and scary _is_ dark and scary."

"You're so clever, Damien." I kissed his smooth cheek. "Now, if you excuse me, I've got to feed Snowball and text my sisters. I haven't talked to them in a while and I need to let them know I'll be okay getting close with potential Satanists tomorrow."


	3. The Mystery of Mystêre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosalie and Damien go see Cirque du Soleil's Mystêre; Rosalie runs into someone familiar.

"They're going to sell our fucking seats, Damien! We've got to hurry!"

"All right, all right! Calm down, Rose. We've made it!"

Forty-five minutes later, we arrived at Treasure Island... fifteen minutes prior to showtime. I seethed in second-hand embarrassment as we rushed through the hotel, frantically asking employees where the Mystêre Theatre was, but all they could do was point at the vague directional signs above our heads. The strong stench of cigar smoke drifting out of the nearby casino didn't help with my nerves much, the incoming clouds so dark they clouded my vision. I wasn't able to see anything in front of me, not even in my peripheral vision.

And much to my luck, in my hurried walk, one of my heels got caught in a tile ridge.

" _Fanculo!_ "

I tripped and stumbled right into the chest of someone with a bald head and dark, opaque sunglasses that entirely hid his eyes. When I regained my balance, I noticed the man's relatively dapper jacket and vest, a bit too fancy of an outfit for someone prowling around a three-star hotel. Two women a few years older than me were wrapped around both of his arms, dressed in the flashiest cocktail dresses I've ever seen, tight on their lithe frames.

"I'm so sorry, sir!" I apologized and stumbled back onto my feet to strap my heel back into place. "The casino's pretty smoky tonight, huh?"

The mysterious, bald man lowered his sunglasses to the crooked bridge of his nose and stared me down with mismatched eyes - one green and one white, similar to those of a certain Satanic pope I'd been researching all day. 

"No way! You're... you're Papa Emeritus from Ghost, aren't you?" There was no denying this man was actually Papa. Who else would wear sunglasses indoors and carry around pretty chicks like they were his possessions? "Your eyes..." 

One of the girls - a vicious looking redhead with brown eyes - tugged on the man's coat sleeve, gesturing toward a nearby escalator. Her glare toward me served as a sign of protection for her supposed sugar daddy and her undying protection attention for him. A smirk formed on the woman's face as the man-who-might-be-Papa led his girls away from my sight, leaving me to stand alone, coughing in the smoke cloud.

"Was that really him?" Damien came to my aid, pulling me close to his side.

"He might’ve been. I mean, he looked like the real deal, Damien! I'm like eighty-five percent sure that was Papa!"

“Don’t worry about him.” The royal blue and gold Mystêre Theatre lobby just so happened to be behind us, decorated with suns and stars and posters of the heavily made-up performers. “No matter what happens, you’re going to give Berkeley a good article. I understand he’s putting a lot of stress on you because of that.”

“More than ever, actually.” I dug into my purse to retrieve my ticket. “Sometimes, I can’t understand that man’s ambition. It’s almost superhuman.”

“Well, you know what? We’re here now, to relax and have a good time. Just focus on that, okay? Try to block Papa and the Ghouls from your mind for a few hours. The show is all that matters right now.”

So in Damien's best wishes, I pushed away my doubts and focused on the colorful, flexible performers for the next hour and a half. Graduating from college with a BA in Creative Writing sure did have its perks. I simply couldn't watch a performance without thinking about symbolism and the hidden meanings buried within the show's acts.

The Chinese Poles act with the double-faced performers was to resemble finding one's identity, for instance. The performers stared vacantly out into the audience, only to reveal that their masks were in fact on the back of their heads, hiding away their secretively corrupted states. Their quick tricks of jumping and running along the poles served as a distraction for whatever other trickery they had up their spandex sleeves.

Meanwhile, I still struggled with finding my place in this crazy world. So far, I'm a writer for an up-and-coming magazine, I'm dating a wonderful guy who's out for my best interests, and I've got a stable roof over my head. Yet, something felt missing. I'm only twenty-four, but why did it feel like I'm supposed to have my entire life figured out already? I left my uptight, conservative family for one of the world's most infamous cities, and with time I learned how to navigate through the bright-lighted chaos of the City of Sin.

I couldn't say I became a different person in the span of two years though. Partying and sex were things I wanted to enjoy like everyone else I knew, yet the ideals heavily enforced in my family held me back, not letting me free. The fight against my increasing sexual urges got to the point where I couldn't even constrain them anymore. I loved Damien, I really did, and I want to prove my love for him. I needed to embrace my darker side like an old friend, but it hang limp and dead, dusty, underused. Where would I start?

The end of the show made its arrival quicker than I expected. The performers played their Taiko drums with gusto, amid the bright lights and blinding fog, creating a soundtrack for one lost in the barren desert. The vibrations coming from their music resonated in my heart and the power surged through my veins as if I were up on stage with them. Was this what power felt like, to silence an entire crowd stunned by your talent?

"Talent over appearance," I recalled from one of Ghost's interviews. These Cirque du Soleil performers weren't household names, yet they brought cheer and amazement to the audiences every night. I wonder what it felt like to be a performer that captivated the hearts of several with a simple look or gesture. Everyone has a dark side. I didn't even want to know what Ghost's was, but as a reporter, it was my duty to discover these secrets for myself.

At the end of the show, my applause was the loudest out of everyone’s. 

“Man, Rose!” Damien exclaimed. “You must’ve really liked the show.”

I brushed away an incoming tear. "It was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Mystêre had reawakened my thoughts to discover my true self. Like the characters of the show, they desired to seek the world's answers, only to discover that life itself was a mystery. We might as well celebrate life while we're still alive. We'd come across many things - joy and tragedies, the majestic and the terrifying, death and rebirth. It was up to you to decide where to begin your journey. Nothing yet awakened the yearnings in the depth of my soul begging to be released, but perhaps with Ghost, they would eventually make their presence.

When we returned home, I sat cross-legged on the floor and examined the package's contents again, even running the Opus Eponymous vinyl on my record player while I jotted down what I'd ask the Nameless Ghoul. Papa sung of Satan and witchcraft, but the meanings behind the words told a different story. The Ghouls represented the elements of alchemy - fire, water, air, earth, and quintessence - but did they perhaps have another role in the lore? How loyal were they to Papa and the so-called ministry the one Ghoul mentioned in an interview?

Reading my questions over, I scratched a few out, the ones that would make me sound clueless. I couldn’t risk the future of my job if I sounded like every other reporter in the business! I needed to be edgy, different, just like Berkeley ingrained into my mind on my first day of work, and especially with a band like Ghost. Even if I had to be escorted out of the venue or tortured by the band to receive what I needed, I would ensure I came out unscathed and alive. Berkeley and my coworkers may think I’m a weak, shy woman, but with this opportunity, I’m going to show them wrong.

I checked the clock - 12:22 am. Time for bed.

I emerged from the floor and stumbled into the bathroom, my knees aching from being on them for so long. A sad-looking creature with watery blue eyes and a thicket of dark eyelashes stared at me in the mirror, blinking furiously. A waif, essentially, too gaunt and tired looking. I opened the cabinet and found my prescription of Prozac, drinking the pills down with water as I brushed my blonde bangs back with my hand.

"Rose?" Damien stood in the door frame behind me, dressed in nothing but loose-fitting pajama pants.

"Yes, Damien?" I mumbled.

"Just wanted to see if you were coming to bed." He approached me from behind and wrapped his arms around my torso, pulling me in for a quick peck on the check. "Looks like you were just taking your meds again."

"Yup. Just meds."

"You okay? Ever since you mentioned that Ghost assignment, you've been a little... off."

"Off?" I loosened myself from Damien's grip. "No, I'm not _off_ , I'm nervous. This always happens when I get a big-name band."

"Well, it's a little more than what I'm used to."

"It's just nerves, Damien, I swear. It isn't everyday when I get a band that are rumored to be Satanists."

"You know, Rose, you can always tell Berkeley you don’t feel like the band is something you can write a good article about. He'll understand."

"No, he won't. I've denied way too many bands' interviews in the past three months, and if I decline the Ghost one, I'll surely get fired. Besides, Berkeley's really excited about this one. I don't want to let him down."

"Figures. He'll do anything for that extra moola."

"I'm surprised he can even trust me." I followed Damien back to our bedroom. "I'm, like, the youngest person on the main writing staff. But I know how to write, and I've got the degree to prove it. Lately these days, the interns don't know the difference between plural and possessive. It drives me nuts."

"Well, Snoopy—“

"Don't call me that." Snoopy, Sherlock - I'm not a detective. I am a reporter.

"Oh, sorry!" Damien gave a little laugh. "Anyway, we all know of your passion, and it's to write to inform the masses. The amount of effort you give is just... absolutely amazing. You don't let your anxiety hold you back, Rose, and for that, Berkeley should be looking on you way more than he is right now."

"Well, that wouldn't make either of our lives any more exhilarating, now would it?"

Damien sighed. "True, Berkeley can be a pain. But all I want to say is that despite what happens, your passion is strong, and you've got to keep that on you at all times. It's working for you, for me, for all of us. Don't quit. You can do this, Rose, I know you can."

"Gee, thanks, bud. I really appreciate that."

We both sank into the covers. Damien brought me close to his chest, running his hand down my back until he stopped at my ass, cupping a cheek.

"Uh, Damien?" Great, the anxiety returned, and I had _just_ taken my meds. "What are you doing?"

"What, I can't cuddle you?"

"That's not cuddling, that's groping."

"Oh, come on, Rose.“

I rolled over on my side to face him. "No, Damien. I've told you many times, I'm not ready yet. But I think I will be soon."

"That's good. Has the porn been working?"

"Porn?” Shit, he knew. “What porn?"

"Didn't you say you were watching some clips on some website?"

"Oh, yeah..." I remembered with embarrassment. "And the cheesy late-night HBO shit, too."

"Rose, you don't need to be ashamed of that if you want to feel more in-the-know. I totally understand. It makes you feel more relaxed, you know?"

"Well... good. I'm glad you understand." I yawned. "Okay, Damien, I've got to go to sleep if I want to feel more confident about tomorrow's interview. You know that."

"Definitely, Rose. I'll let you sleep. Just know that I love you, okay?"

"Of course. I love you too."

We then fell asleep, his hand tightly clasping mine.


	4. Interview with the Nameless Ghoul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosalie interviews a Special Ghoul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "House" is theatre terminology for the main area of the venue.

**THE NEXT DAY**

I tiptoed into the House of Blues’ main show room, nervously clutching my notepad against my chest. The chatter and buzzing of the three-hundred or so attendees waiting outside didn't do much for my nerves. It nearly horrified me to see some of the fans dressed so similarly to Ghost’s members, a few so accurately that I could’ve mistaken them for the real deal. Some had greasepaint in the skeleton style of Papa Emeritus slathered over their faces, while others were dressed like nuns or in masks similar to the Nameless Ghouls.

Meanwhile, I wore my usual concert outfit, consisting of my favorite but worn-out combat boots, ripped up jean shorts, and a black Rock Uncovered tank top. I also wore the rosary beads from the package, to show my interest and support for the band. It was the only way to show that I had indeed done my research, and of course, that the merchandise was safely (and oddly) sent to my house. Out of all the shows I've been to so far, this happened to be the only one where I felt bizarrely out of place.

Now, I stood frozen in my tracks, unsure of where to go for the interview. The anticipation always got to me in the beginning, so much that my heart started pounding in my chest. The techies were still on stage setting up the band's instruments and double checking the backdrop behind them, their backs facing me. The artwork on the backdrop was grotesque in nature; three separate windows showed different tableaus reminiscent of stained glass depicting horned devils and serpentine creatures. Surrounded by these creatures were nude people exchanged in embraces and, from the looks of it, orgy. There was no light to be found - all the windows' color schemes consisted of dark blues and reds. Yet, the detail of the artwork astounded me. Ghost were devoted not just to their music, but to their art as well.

"Hey, I'm over here."

A cold hand touched my nearly bare shoulder, disturbing me from my trance.

I turned to see a Nameless Ghoul patiently waiting near the door, his hands behind his back. His mask’s eye holes were covered with black mesh and the symbol on his coat was a single triangle, the sign of fire. Although this Ghoul was rather short in stature, he also had a horrifying, almost threatening air about him. I was so fascinated by the Nameless Ghouls yesterday, so why was I so scared of seeing one in person? I suppose it was actually fear of the unknown.

“Oh, there you are!” I said with a nervous laugh in my voice. “You blended in so well with the dark that I didn't see you there.” Damn, here comes my awkwardness again! “Hi, I’m Rosalie Hammond from Rock Uncovered. On behalf of Mr. Samuel Berkeley, we’re pleased you’ve accepted an interview with us.”

“The pleasure’s mine,” the Ghoul replied, shaking my hand. He spoke in a barely-there Swedish accent, like the representative Ghoul in the Papaganda video. As a matter of fact, that very Ghoul stood before me. And I thought a Nameless Ghoul would have a raspy, guttural voice, like someone whose vocal chords were shot after doing death growls for a doom metal band for too long.

"So... for posterity's sake, what do you want me to call you?" There were five Nameless Ghouls that just went by 'A Nameless Ghoul', and I didn't want to confuse my readers. I needed to give this guy some patronymic to make things easier.

"I occasionally play guitar when I'm not doing my duties for the clergy. So, how about Guitar Ghoul?"

"No, wait!" I smiled. "How about Special Ghoul?"

The Ghoul chuckled. "Special Ghoul it is. I guess I'll show you where the green room is?"

It was a relief that the green room was a short walk away from the house, so I didn't have to make much small talk with this slightly intimidating Nameless Ghoul. We passed by one of the dressing rooms, where I hoped to catch a glimpse of Papa putting on his makeup and warming up his voice. All I saw was a brown-eyes woman dressed as a nun glaring at me through the door crack as if she recognized me from somewhere. Her tall Ghoul companion followed, taking note of my seemingly uninvited presence as well.

"Ah! Here we go!" Special opened the door to the green room. "Looks like the House of Blues made it all nice and special for us. Usually we're stuck with a room the size of a closet and the stench of an opium den. Not that we mind it, of course!"

"I get it." I politely smiled and took my seat. “First off, I’d like to thank you guys for sending the merch to my house.” I held out my rosary beads, focusing more on the colors and not Special's covered eyes. “It came really unexpected, but it was very nice of you guys. And plus, free merch! Can't go wrong with that. Send my regards to your publicist."

“It was Papa’s idea, actually.” Special's hands fidgeted in his lap. “He does that whenever we get a reporter with a good reputation. You know, it’s probably because you guys are Rock Uncovered. You, uh, find the truth of things. But anyway, it’s funny, because Papa’s not all that nice in real life.”

"What do you mean?" If this was all Special would offer up, then I was in for an earful of rambling for the next twenty minutes. "I saw that Papaganda video and he seemed pretty down to—"

"No, really." Special lowered his voice to a hushed whisper, as if what he was about to say shouldn't be heard by anyone but us. "He's a huge asshole, a bitter, wounded old man. That's just a persona he puts on for the public to win their favor, and so far, it's working. We spent forever trying to find the next successor of Papas. It took half a year, I believe, all while our first one was letting _rigor mortis_ settle in his poor old body."

"So the first Papa just... died?" I jotted down what the Ghoul said in my notepad.

"He's on the verge. You see, we have this sort of retirement plan when it comes to our Papas. The project's had it laid out since day one. Every album, we get a new Papa, to revitalize our image. Let's just say the first Papa's having a grand old time in retirement, getting the ladies and what not."

"Oh... that's interesting."

Then again, during my research session, information about the first Papa was sparse, so whatever Special told me could potentially help me build my story. And like Damien said, Papa and the Ghouls stayed in character most of the time. Whatever Special said in regards to the band’s history was just bullshit fed to reporters, to satisfy their need for juicy tabloids.

I shifted through my notepad to find my handwritten questions. All I could find were old interview notes and doodles of future tattoo designs to join the dove on my right shoulder. I must've forgotten what page I kept the Ghost questions on, lucky me, and time was not my ally here.

Special tapped his fingers on his hand almost impatiently, whistling a song to himself. Jesus, why did he have to be so intimidating? It helped only slightly that I wasn't able to see his eyes.

Finally, I found the page of Ghost questions and started to rattle them off. I tried to make my questions sound unique, as Berkeley requested. Even then, I noticed that other reporters always asked about Dave Grohl’s brief stint as a Nameless Ghoul (supposedly) and what Satanism truly meant to the band. I asked things such as, “What inspired you to take on the themes present in your music?” and “How did you manage to find those choirs while recording the album?”

Special liked to exaggerate things by using hand gestures. Pretty nice, considering his whole face was hidden. It made him more animated, more human and less Darth Vader clone. Oftentimes, his stories were filled with prose and odd tidbits of wisdom, as he talked about his time going from scrawny indie musician to the lead guitarist of an anonymous band. Of course, he didn't drop any names - being secretive was the key.

"I can even name all the Spice Girls if you want me to!" Special even said cheerfully after telling a story about a group of teenaged girls he once talked to.

"Oh, so I can I!" I replied, chuckling. "I was a big fan of them in middle school."

I turned a page in my notepad and nearly grimaced. The dreaded ritual question was up next, and I really hoped it didn't sour Special's chipper mood.

"So, I've got one more question, if you don't mind.” I cleared my throat. “Uh... so, I heard that after your shows, you guys like to... party a bit?"

"Sure, who doesn't?"

"I heard rumors that your after-parties take on a similar theme to your shows." I looked up at him from my notepad. So far, so good. "Do these rumors happen to be true? Like, do you have stripper nuns, or goats running around to be cut into?"

There was an awkward pause as Special remained silent, his hands squirming in his lap again.

"Uh... well... those are interesting conclusions you came up with. Who told you that?"

"M-my boss told me." My voice changed into a nervous stammer. "That's all I know."

“Normally we only tell our friends and associates about our after parties," Special said warily. "I have no idea where this similar themes thing is coming from, because you know, it’s not like we’re Satanists in real life or something. I thought it was interesting that you happened to know about them.”

“I was only curious,” I said in a voice barely above a whisper.

Special rose from his seat and approached me at the couch, his hand accidentally brushing against my notepad. He leaned in close so that the beak of his mask nearly stabbed me in the side of my neck, and much to my shock, he let out a warm chuckle.

“You know, we _did_ give you the password to get into the party tonight with all that stuff Papa sent you. Remember? Hell Satan?”

So that’s what the paper in the package was for! Damien was right all along!

“Oh… yeah, that.” I chuckled awkwardly. “Oh, wow, I had no idea. Shit, I’m so sorry…”

“No, don’t be!" Special patted my shoulder, his hand soft and warm on my bare shoulder. "Just swing on by after the show and I’ll tell you where we’re having the party. It’s going to be our… uh… special treat. Or rather, it’s Papa’s, since he…uh… sent you those gifts. I think he’ll actually want to meet you after the show. He likes to meet the reporters, you know... make them feel welcome.”

“Oh, really?” I gasped, partially flattered but also freaked out. I’m not much of a party person, and even if I did wind up going, I’d probably hide in the bathroom most of the time. And besides, confronting Papa Emeritus would make me want to hide in a bathroom for several hours, anyway! 

“You’re Papa’s special guest, so of course.” Special straightened out his black cassock. "I don’t think any of the others would mind at all. But, I do have to warn you that Papa is a man of many moods. Let’s just say that when he lays his eyes upon a woman, he gets a bit excited.”

I thought Papa was a character rather than a real person, but then again, character integrity was the most important part of the band.

I stood up and tucked my notepad in the side pocket of my shorts. "Well, uh... I'm guessing you guys are about to take the stage soon. I'll be seeing you later, then! Do you mind if I bring my—"

But Special had already left, the green room's double doors creaking on the hinges.


	5. On This Night of Ritual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosalie finally gets to see the band up close and personal, but little does she know of what will happen when the show ends...

A rather jolly, gray-haired techie wearing glasses and the black cassock of a missionary man waited by the doors to escort me back into the pit. Berkeley wasn't going to be satisfied with the interview at all. Sure, Special provided me with some new details, but were they enough for my boss who craved edge and exploitative detail? I stayed away from the usual topics most people brought up in their interviews, but was it for the best or for the worst?

In the end, I hoped the truth wouldn't kill me.

"So... what's Papa like?" I asked the techie, breaking the awkward silence between us. "Is he nice?"

"Oh, yes!" The techie smiled as he adjusted the silver lapel pin on the collar of his shirt. It was of that weird inverted cross I kept on seeing everywhere for the past day, the band's logo. "Papa is a very skilled performer and party host to boot. He certainly knows how to satisfy everyone! You'll see what I mean later tonight at our ritual."

"Uh... don't you mean after-party?" 

The techie chuckled. "No, I definitely meant ritual. We're one-hundred percent devoted to the band's wishes, chickpea. Papa's orders."

 _Everything revolves around Papa,_ I thought as the man bowed his head and disappeared behind some black curtains, presumably where Papa and the Ghouls were waiting to make their entrances. Ghost really did have a loyalty program, didn't they? Even the techies wore costumes and stayed in character.

I found my way back into the pit. A soft piano tune played over the speakers and the spicy scent of incense - frankincense, specifically - floated in the air. Damien stood right against the barricade, in the dead center of the front row. We'd have a perfect view of the whole stage, and once Papa came out, he'd be standing right above us.

“How’d it go?” Damien asked me, offering me a sip from his plastic cup of beer.

"Mmm, liquid courage." I took a small sip from the cup. "Thanks, bud. Things didn't go very well."

"How come?"

“How about I tell you when the pseudo-Satanists aren't watching my back?"

"Sounds like a plan." Damien playfully whacked me on the shoulder.

The house lights dimmed and the piano music faded into the silence of anticipation. The stage remained vacant, save for the Ghouls' instruments and the cathedral-like backdrop, the stained glass windows now glowing eerily red. Murmurings buzzed in the crowd like bees, waiting for the moment when the Nameless Ghouls would arrive, gazing out into the crowd with widened eyes.

Then, the one piece of reversed music from Eyes Wide Shut played. It was the music from the ritual scene, when Tom Cruise watched a bunch of masked women drop their robes and become slaves to desire. It boomed throughout the entire venue, chilling my blood and making the hairs on my neck stand up.

 _Shock value indeed_.

"Well... now I kind of believe you," Damien whispered in my ear. "This is kind of messed up."

"Do you think we should stay for the whole thing?" I asked him. "I mean, I got my interview... I don't know if we should stay."

"It's a free concert, Rose! Besides, we're in the front. It's gonna be a clusterfuck trying to get out."

The Nameless Ghouls then entered the stage to wild applause. Just like Special, these Ghouls were even more intimidating in person, with their glossy black Bauta masks and hooded costumes. However, unlike the interviewed Ghoul, their eyes weren't concealed, opening up the windows to their souls, or lack thereof.

One Ghoul in particular intrigued me from the moment I saw him on my computer screen. His bright, blue eyes caught sight with mine, penetrating deep into my soul. Quickly, I diverted my eyes to the thick, silver rings he wore on each hand. Couldn't have myself forming weird fantasies in my head so soon.

The crowd chanted the Latin lyrics of the intro, 'Infestissumam', with the exact fervor a devout fanatic would have singing their favorite psalms in church. Damien and I exchanged confused glances and snorted. There was no way either of us could take this pseudo-Satanic black mass so seriously! What was everyone even singing about, anyway? The birth of the Antichrist?

“I heard Satan in there somewhere!” Damien even remarked.

‘Infestissumam’ heralded the way to 'Per Aspera Ad Inferi', the very first Ghost song I heard. Papa Emeritus himself made his slow but grand entrance onto the stage, wielding his unusually shaped scepter in his black gloved hand. He stood a few feet away from me now, the stage being our barrier. His eyes of green and white bore into mine, never leaving my sight, even as the fangirls around me started to shriek and sob, clamoring for Papa's attention.

"Unholy is the lust in your eyes," Papa sang. His voice sounded just as youthful, if not more powerful, than it did on the album. "Blasphemous would not suffice..."

Damien and I unrelentingly nodded our heads to the beats of the next few songs, pumping our fists without a care, despite Papa's occasional stolen glances toward me. Luckily, I wasn't on photographic assignment this time (Sean from the photography crew got the assignment for tomorrow), so I could actually enjoy the show and not worry about taking pictures every two seconds, unlike everyone else around me.

Being the eagle-eyed reporter I was, I closely observed Papa's stage presence. People weren't kidding when they said there was a certain charisma to Papa, one that he could project all the way to the balconies. He had this little act where he wandered behind each Ghoul and watched them dutifully play their music, gesturing to them with a wave of his fingers. They were the marionettes on his strings, puppets with no will at all but to play their psalms.

Papa controlled the crowd just as easily. When he commanded us to join in with the simple but memorable chorus of 'Year Zero' - "Hell Satan!", the very phrase on my after-party invitation - everyone obeyed.

Time passed by quickly, as the show began to die down with a slow ballad, 'Ghuleh/Zombie Queen', one of my favorite songs on the record. The song sounded like a Pink Floyd song from hell, complete with dreamy synths and the melodic wail from the guitars. My eyes even started to grow heavy as I let my body sway to the music, becoming victim to its spell. I didn't care if I looked like an idiot around these people - they were so much of hardcore fans I don't think they even cared.

When I opened my eyes back up, Papa had begun to chuck roses into the crowd. The girls went wild, pushing other people aside for a token of Papa's affection. None of these people knew Papa's true identity, so why clamor for his attention? Maybe at this after-party - excuse me, ritual, I'd receive of a hint of who Papa was out of character, not just vague, in-character murmurings of him being 'nice' or 'an asshole.'

Papa's eyes locked with mine once again. This time, he drifted over to the center of the pit and bent down on his knees, personally handing me a rose with a black ribbon tied around the thorn-plucked stem.

"For you, _principessa._ " Papa took my hand and kissed it. "I shall see you at ritual tonight."

"Th-thank you, Papa.” My cheeks burned as the smile on my face became the widest it could be. Shit, his charm worked on me!

Papa nodded tersely and went back to the center of the stage, crooning the lyrics to the final song of the night, 'Monstrance Clock.' He ran his hands along the microphone stand rather sensually, flicking it with his fingertips for some odd reason. When I listened to the rest of _Infestissumam_ while getting ready this morning, this song stuck out to me specifically for its chorus.

 _Come together, together as a one._  
_Come together, for Lucifer’s son._

It summed up the night perfectly. Everyone, from the passionate fans to the techies and even the Ghouls themselves, was here for one reason and one alone. We were here to celebrate the darkness of the world, how corrupt we can possibly become, without shame nor dishonor. Music is like morphine, numbing the pain of the outside world as we became at ease by the lyrics and the melodies. Perhaps Ghost were trying to offer an escape through the religion that was constantly shunned upon by most, and that was why they sung about Satan and witches and the occult. It were the darker things in life where solace could easily be found.

And then, it was done. Papa and the Ghouls parted through the fog still lingering in the air. There was no encore, no final bows like Mystêre.

I remained in my spot as the back of the crowd and the upper tiers flooded out, satisfied murmurs about the show buzzing in my ears. Personally, I thought the band sounded much better live, better at spreading the dark message forth through their music's power. I had the same feeling watching Mystêre - with the talent you possessed, you could make the crowd stop at a standstill, amazed by your mere presence. When you had something to say, you better be ready to catch people's attention. If only I had that type of vigor to show the world what I'm capable of, much more than sitting at a desk and typing at a computer, writing about facts and twenty-year-old conspiracy theories. 

"Hey, Damien," I said over the mellowing crowd, keeping my eyes transfixed on the backdrop. "I forgot to tell you! That Nameless Ghoul invited us to the after-party!"

Silence. 

"Damien?"

No response from my boyfriend, even as the last remaining people left, leaving the venue quiet, save for the hearty chuckles from the techies backstage. Oddly, there were no security guards lingering around to make sure everyone had left. It was just me and the stained glass backdrop hanging from the rafters, leaving me stranded in Ghost's domain.

Goosebumps prickled on my arms. _Damien's only in the bathroom,_ I tried to reassure myself. Minutes passed by with no sight of him, though. The more the voices of the audience faded, the more uncomfortable I became.

I clutched onto my new rose nervously, waiting one minute, and then one more, for Damien to come back.

"This isn't funny, Damien!"

I spun on my heel and began to run out of the venue as if it were on fire. Just as my hand was about to push the doors open, a dark shadow from seemingly out of nowhere accelerated toward the doors and barricaded me from making my escape. A dark Bauta mask covered all but his dark brown eyes that glowered down at me like a predator about to grab his prey in his sharp teeth.

_A Nameless Ghoul?!_

"Oh, hey!" My eyes lowered down to the symbol on the shadow's sash, a triangle with a line crossing through it. _The symbol of Air,_ I recalled. "You must be another one of the Nameless Ghouls. I was just about to make my way backstage so you guys can tell me where the—"

"Listen, girl." An older, raspier voice came from behind the mask. "I can make this easy for you, or I can gut you like a sacrificial lamb right in front of everyone. I advise that you be silent."

"W-what are you talking about?" I backed away slowly from the Ghoul, clutching my bag close to me.

"Papa has taken great interest in you. You are to come with us."

"But I—"

Air covered my mouth with his other hand, rough and calloused against my lips.

"I don't want to hear any questions out of you, girl. You must come with me and that is final."

"HELP!" I screamed through Air's hand. "SOMEONE HELP, PLEASE!"

Air tugged my hair and pushed me underneath his arm, dragging me to his side like I was a child's rag doll. He covered my mouth with the crook of his arm, muffling my cries, yet I screamed until my throat burned, raw from vibration. Against this Ghoul, I was somehow weak. I had no idea how to fight for my way out, yet I knew I would lose if I tried. Maybe this was my punishment for being too inquisitive of the band's practices, for intruding upon Ghost's private space. The barrier between reporter and musician had somehow diminished, thinning into nothing. This escape plan felt all too planned for me to believe, for purposes more than "staying in character", but an inkling of suspicion inside me warned me that the worst had yet to come.

Air brought me outside, where the humid Vegas air dried up my throat even more. A black tour bus waited by the loading bay, its doors wide open, waiting for me.

"Get in."

I tripped over the rubbery stairs, keeping my eyes on the ground. The bus's doors immediately closed with a dull thud as the wheels slid against the crackling pavement. I collapsed onto a leather couch, face first, and felt my bag being taken away from me. I had landed right next to someone, my hand accidentally fumbling in their lap, but I didn't dare look.

"Where are you taking me?" I sobbed, keeping my face buried into the couch. "Please, tell me..."

"I told you to be silent!" Air hissed into my ear.

“Oh, leave the girl alone, Air!” a man with a thick Italian accent similar to Papa's said. “Rosalina is our special guest. Do you remember what I told you, boys?”

"She is the—" a raspy-voiced man began to say.

“Oh, hush!” the-man-who-might-be-Papa chastised. “She is lying right over there on the couch!”

“So  _she's_  the one you guys had a meeting about last night,” a squawky-voiced woman remarked. She had one of those voices that despite how cartoonish it sounded, you shouldn’t mess with her.

"She's our savior, Sister Alessa," another woman replied, a seductive husk in her voice. "Don't you remember? She just managed to stumble into the honey trap in a rather unique way."

“Well said, Sister Verona,” Air said. "If she wanted to forge information from us, she will have to wager something for it. Besides, Papa’s been waiting for Rosalina for a long, long time.”

Before I could even shoot my head up to ask how Air knew my name, or why I was being called Rosalina, Air ran his hand through my tresses of blonde hair. Disgustingly enough, his almost gentle touch and his veins against my cheek were enough to calm me down, sending me into sleep and the void of the unknown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> 'principessa' - princess


	6. Masked Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosalie receives her well-needed information, but it comes with a price.
> 
> Lyrics to 'Infestissumam' and 'Ritual' belong to Ghost.

**1:00 AM.**

I awoke with a startled jump, my cheeks wet from the tears soaking through my pillow. I must've had a really bad nightmare, I thought, as my eyes wandered around the room, trying to make out familiar objects in the darkness. I usually did this whenever I woke up with an anxiety attack late at night - I focused on ordinary things, like Damien's Iron Maiden poster pinned to the wall and my record player situated in the right-hand corner, near my dresser.

Instead, I saw walls the color of fresh blood and black gossamer curtains fluttering tantalizingly in an invisible breeze, shrouding away the outside world.

_This place is not my home._

I rose from my not-bed and stumbled over to the window, taller than it was wide. It was so dark outside that I wasn't able to see the canyons in the distance, let alone stars. Only a small sliver of moonlight illuminated the thicket of sequoia trees surrounding wherever I was, a tall place, considering that I was on the second floor. I had to be in Vegas still, at least the state of Nevada, just not in a place I've ever been to. It was too quiet for me to make out any sounds, but if I rested my ear against the door, perhaps I'd hear footsteps or distant talking.

"First, I need a light."

I reached down to my waist to retrieve my phone from my pocket, but instead, my hand grabbed a thin, stretchy sample of fabric and a hint of skin. When I passed out on the bus, I must've been changed out of the outfit I wore and into the dress I now wore. Everything else I had on my person, including my notepad and my phone, was taken away from me. The only thing I still had was my Ghost rosary hanging around my neck, to show my pious worship.

Then, I heard music.

It was the creepy music from _Eyes Wide Shut_ again. Maybe some bizarre Satanic ritual was indeed happening downstairs, just like in the movie, but if I actually wanted to attend the most fucked up after-party in existence, I needed to be masked and cloaked. I couldn't show up as Rosalie, the awkward as hell reporter!

Thankfully, a mask and a cloak sat on a dresser against the wall. The cloak was velvety and dark red, like the cape of Little Red Riding Hood, while the mask was a Bauta mask, just like the Ghouls'. Designs of silver and black brought color to the white, porcelain surface; graceful curves and sharp strokes were rimmed around the eyes and filled the forehead. A jutting upper lip of sorts cascaded from underneath the mask's aquiline nose. My mouth would be entirely hidden and I would be silenced, no longer the people's messenger.

I draped myself with my cloak and carefully tied the mask around my head, bringing the hood down once my mask was secured. I then tiptoed out of the bedroom, following the pathway the music created, which brought me down a winding staircase and to an open parlor in what was presumably a grand country mansion. Groups of a few dozen people, masked and cloaked like I was, were scattered all around, standing near marble statues of nude women with ram heads and men with chiseled chests. The Ghouls supervised the stillness up high on the dais, gazing down at a platform where eight people stood in a circle, surrounding a throne of melted silver.

_What in the hell was this?_

Swallowing down my fear, I joined the closest group of similarly-cloaked people, their heads lowered and covered by their hoods. There wouldn't be any time for small talk here, thank God.

The Ghouls descended from the dais and, ironically enough, approached my group first. One of the Ghouls, blue-eyed and stocky, met my gaze, keeping his eyes on me. The gentle giant and I shared eye contact once again. This time, I couldn't look down at his rings without giving away my identity as the shy, blonde woman in the front row.

" _Ave Satanas,_ _filios._ " This Ghoul had the voice of my kidnapper, Air.

“ _Ave Satanas,_ _magister._ "

Everyone in my group lowered down to their knees. I scrambled to do the same, but my hesitance was quickly noted. Another Ghoul with bright blue eyes approached me, glaring at me from behind his mask, not recognizing me from earlier.

A dull pain formed in the pit of my stomach. It was very clear that I was _not_ supposed to be here. Then again, I couldn't be stranded in that bedroom for much longer if I wanted to escape with the truth in my grasp.

“Who are you, girl?” This Ghoul's voice was harsh and crackly, like a raging fire.

“I’m… uh… the reporter from earlier,” I answered under the pretenses that this would be a one night only scenario. “Remember? Rosalie Hammond from—“

"You foolish girl!" The Ghoul pushed me close to him and grabbed my throat in both his hands, catching the bewildered attention of everyone standing among us. "You are not supposed to reveal your name in the presence of the clergy!"

"I'm only here for one night!" I protested, my voice strained by the Ghoul's thumbs against my windpipe. 

Further angered, the Ghoul tore off my hood and lifted my mask up to my head so that only he could see my face.

"I know a face when I see one, girl. I haven't seen yours within the confines of our unholy sanctuary. You're one of those crazy groupies, aren't you?"

“I’m not one of them!” Tears began to run down my cheeks.

“Tell me, girl, would _you_ like to be our sacrifice tonight?”

“Please, no!” 

"Leave her alone, Alpha!" The stocky Nameless Ghoul pushed his brother away from me. "She may be a new recruit."

"New recruit my ass! She's that reporter!"

"Papa has plans for her tonight," Stocky Ghoul said thinly, ushering Alpha away from my group. "Leave her be."

I lowered my head and wrung my hands together, trilling anxiously under my breath. Whenever Papa arrived at the party, I knew for sure I'd be in a heap load of trouble.

"First ritual, huh?" A woman who wore a gold mask crowned with red feathers shifted over to my side and gently pulled me closer to her, almost in protection. “Follow my lead. It'll redeem you."

The Ghouls proceeded to approach the throne in the center of the room, barricading it like loyal soldiers. As if on cue, the eight people near the throne fell to their knees and threw off their hoods, revealing the dark feathers crowned atop their heads. All of the eight were women, their hair long and dark.

My heart nearly stopped when Papa entered the room, holding his scepter in one hand and an incense ball attached on a chain in the other. He approached his throne with a smooth, gliding walk, tapping the floor with his scepter twice. The Ghouls descended to their knees as Papa walked past them and toward the girls, examining them brusquely.

“This is when Papa gets to choose which girl he’ll fuck tonight,” Gold Mask informed me. “The Ghouls get to choose from the remainder at celebration. Here in the Church of Ghost, it’s an honor to be ravished by a Nameless Ghoul, but if Papa has his way with you, you’re immediately a goddess, respected by all."

_The Church of Ghost?!_

In time with the priest's frentic chanting, the girls freed themselves of their dark robes, revealing their nude bodies, their cunts hidden by only a black thong. Most of the women wore the same mask, black and circular to make it seem like there was an empty void where their faces should've been. They also shared the same tattoo, Ghost's twisted interpretation of the cross, inked on their left thigh, a sign of their loyalty to this band, this _Church_.

Papa stopped at a redheaded girl who wore a different mask from the rest of the girls, a pink Colombina that exposed the lower half of her face, and offered her his gloved hand. She accepted it without hesitance. Then, they stopped in front of one more woman, who had black hair and a silver Colombina mask. Papa offered her his hand and led the two ladies to his throne. The rejected girls lowered their heads as the Ghouls ushered them over to a corner of the room, to wait until they were chosen to fuck one of the Ghouls, if Gold Mask's information was anything to go by.

The ominous music ceased as Papa tapped his scepter on the floor twice again. This time, everyone lowered down in their Father’s honor. The room became loud with voices that chanted,

 _Il Padre_  
_Il Filio_  
_Et Lo Spiritus Malum_  
_Omnis Caelestis_  
_Delenda Est_

 _Anti Cristus_  
_Il Filio De Sathanas_  
_Infestissumam._

“Rise, my children."

The crowd obeyed Papa's order immediately, silently.

"Tonight's performance was a smashing success. Our Infernal Majesty is slowly but surely swaying more people to our side, just as I have prophesied. But, alas... the fun is far from over. In the crowd, we have found a man who is more than willing to die in the name of our unholy master. A weakling, in fact. You know how much I favor weaklings over the ones who fight."

Beads of sweat dripped down my face, behind the mask. So Papa planned a sacrifice for tonight. Who knew how realistic it would be.

"Of course, we must start with the dance of the virgins. If you all remember correctly, we do have a task to fulfill for our master. Vengeance is hers for as long as she stands by him, and tonight, we have recruited five women to leave their souls behind and join us in our throes of sexual fire."

The Ghouls went up on the dais to their instruments as the so-called virgins entered the room, gliding past the dark sea of worshippers. Their eyes were stained with black and their loose-fitting, white dresses clang to their bodies, a translucent shroud exposing their breasts. A halo of black flowers sat atop their heads, adding a more innocent look to these women in their twenties.

I held back a scoff of utter disgust. This was the kind of stuff you'd see in a movie like _The Wicker Man_ or an old Vincent Price film from the sixties. These poor women, possibly concert attendees who stood near me just hours ago, were being paraded out to be mocked, to be gazed at with peering, lustful eyes. 

The melancholic melody of 'Ghuleh' filled the atrium as the women began to dance, letting the music take over their improvised, somewhat clumsy movements. A disorderly ballet unfurled as the girls twirled in their white dresses, spinning in circles mindlessly, nearly bumping into each other.

I caught the gaze of one of the virgins, her blue eyes glassy and emotionless like a corpse's. The look in this woman's eyes alone convinced me that perhaps this ritual wasn't an elaborately staged after-party after all. Still, though, she danced, running her hands down her waist as if she'd never touched herself before.

Someone grabbed my shoulder. 

“Why did you come here?” 

Gold Mask again, and this time, she wanted answers.

“I’d rather not explain,” I replied uneasily. “Let’s just say the band took a special interest in what I do.”

“You don’t belong here. There’s still a chance for you to leave.”

Papa grinned up at the girls from his throne, holding back his laughter at how pitiful their dance was. He sipped at his goblet of wine as his chosen women sat at each side of the throne, kissing his cheeks and running their hands down his chasuble. These girls were too innocent, too clean, not yet corrupted by the sins of the flesh.

Then, the surfer-style riffs of 'Zombie Queen' played. In the blink of an eye, awkward, if not graceful movements were replaced with rigid, sharper turns and sensual sways, maddened by the dancing plague. Shrieks and cries echoed throughout the atrium as the virgins, much to my shock, started tugging at their hair and clawing at their skin. Somehow, in the brief span of a minute, lust and seduction truly drove the mad.

“No, I’m staying,” I then told Gold Mask. “My boyfriend's here and I have to find him."

“Shh! Papa’s looking in our direction!”

Papa's eyes shifted over to where Gold Mask and I stood. He must've recognized me by my eyes, because as I met his sight, the smug grin on his face faded.

"See what I mean?" Gold Mask whispered. "He knows you're here!"

“I can't leave until I find Damien. I know he's here somewhere!"

The virgins swept into their final pose, receiving applause from the worshippers. How could someone enjoy this horrifying display of power? 

“Such beautiful girls,” Papa commented, dismissing the dancers and his harem with the wave of a hand. “Their innocence is always such a sight to see. So pure, so sweet. It is a shame that once the celebration ends, they will finally be let free, and my Ghouls will have the sinful honor of deflowering them.” A few male voices chuckled at this remark. “What? It was bound to happen sooner or later. It happens to everyone at some point, no? Now, it is time for the moment we have all been waiting for… the sacrifice!”

”Sacrifice?” I nearly cried out in horror, but Gold Mask took my shoulder, forcing me down to my knees.

"Lower your head," she whispered, “and keep your eyes on the floor. It’s for your safety.”

The other worshippers fell back onto their knees as the Ghouls began to play a new song, evil and dark in tone. Papa sang:

 _Tonight we're summoned for a divine cause_  
_Remembrance - No_  
_But for their future loss_  
_This chapel of ritual_  
_Smells of dead human sacrifices_  
_From the altar…_  
_Beduins and nomads_  
_Carried through the times_  
_Through pestilences and famines_  
_These ancient scrolls of rhymes_  
_Our fallen angel vexed_  
_Was banished from the sky_  
_Recite now from the text_  
_Pray for all to die_  
_This chapel of ritual_  
_Smells of dead human sacrifices_  
_From the altar bed_  
_On this night of ritual_  
_Invoking our master_  
_To procreate the unholy bastard_

Papa's harem returned, now unmasked and dressed as nuns, their hair hidden by wimples. They dragged in a young man dressed in stone-washed jeans and a Judas Priest t-shirt, his tanned skin glistening with a sheen of sweat. His brown eyes looked anxiously around the room, trying to find a familiar face in the crowd.

"Rosalie? Rosalie! I know you're here, where are you?"

The room became silent, so quiet you could hear hearts beating in excited trepidation.

My own heart nearly stopped beating, sinking in the worst fear one could ever imagine.

_Damien._


	7. Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosalie must make a life-changing decision.

"What are you doing with him?" I fought my way out of the crowd, nearly stumbling as I pushed people away. "Someone get them to stop! He's innocent! Please, don't do this!"

"Isn't she that snooping reporter girl?" Papa asked his Ghouls furiously, pointing a shaky finger at me. " _She_ must be stopped! _Fermala!_ "

My fingertips brushed against the cotton sleeve of Damien's t-shirt just as one of the nuns thwacked me in the face with her elbow. I dropped to my knees, and in my moment of brief immobility, two of the Ghouls grabbed my wrists and dragged me over to Papa's throne, shaking me around so violently that my Bauta mask slipped past my chin and fell onto the black-and-white tiled floor, shattering into several pieces. My naked face was now exposed at this masked ball of depravity, out of only five, as seemingly countless eyes behind masks watched on eerily.

“So, it _is_ you.” Papa rose from his throne to get a better look at me. “I figured you’d show up here tonight. Is this information enough for you?" He extended his arm out, gesturing toward the crowd. "Have you received your fill of what you need to tell the gentiles?"

“Let me go!” I cried, shaking like a leaf. "I only did what they asked me to do! I... I was only curious!"

“That's what they all say." Papa sighed in disdain. "Curiosity killed the cat, you know. Little Pandora opened up the box and set free all the evils of the world. Are you trying to be my Pandora, _signora_?"

I shook my head. “I’m so sorry...” An ugly mix of snot and tears gushed down my face. “Just please, let us go! I promise, I won’t write anything about—“

“Enough!” Papa brought his fingers underneath my chin and lifted my head up. “Look up when I am speaking to you. I want to see your pretty face. Now, this boy of yours...” He gestured over to Damien. “Is he your lover?”

I nodded. “Yes, sir, he is."

Papa chuckled. “ _Bello._ Would you do anything to save him?”

Damien didn't deserve any of this. After all, I insisted he came to the show with me, guarding me from these horrible people. It may sounded cliched, but when I moved to Vegas and became friends with Damien, he became everything to me. He inspired me to break away from being so shy, he taught me how to be street-smart in the Vegas heat. He even encouraged me to apply for my job at Rock Uncovered!

And yet, I hadn't done anything for him in return. My sweet, caring Damien, always going out of the way to look after me, was in the position to be slaughtered by a bunch of lunatics at this very moment. One of the worst feelings was when you thought about a person you deeply admired, someone you cherished and loved so much, and how they could easily be taken away from you in the blink of an eye. This moment could very well happen now if I didn't speak up, stand our ground.

“Yes," I finally answered. "Yes, I would, sir."

Damien screamed helplessly through the gag shoved in his mouth.

“Very well, then," Papa purred in satisfaction. "We shall not kill him for our offering tonight.”

Many disgruntled groans spread throughout the crowd of worshippers.

“Silence!” One of the Ghouls, specifically the one who tore off my mask earlier, shouted. “The next person who speaks will have their tongue cut out!”

Papa turned back to me. “Your lover shall live, and we will set him free, unharmed.”

“Thank you,” I whispered under my breath, my chest shaking. “Thank you God for—“

“There is no God!” another Ghoul rasped right into my ear.

“But, this is a bargain!" Papa continued. "In exchange for the loss of your lover's soul, we shall have _yours_. However, Mammon doesn’t need your soul just quite yet, does he? Yes…” Papa swarmed around me like an insect, his gloved fingertips stroking my shoulder. “My Ghouls like a little… pleasure every now and then, while they’re not busy with their work. And besides, you craved for as much information from us as possible, and now, we will give it to you, but with a price."

Papa stopped in front of me and bent down to his knees, looking directly into my eyes. It was the concert all over again, but this time there was no token of his appreciation or ladies' man appeal. The cold glint in Papa's eyes suggested my fate may as well be worse than death.

“You are now the Church of Ghost’s slave. More specifically, a  _cortigiana di lume_ , our courtesan. To us, you were a virgin, ignorant of our ways. Besides, you’ve spoiled the whole experience for yourself. We can’t let you dance with the virgins - no, no. That is for only the purest of souls who wish to join us. You wanted to be close with my Ghouls? Then close you shall be.”

Papa grabbed my chin and tilted my head toward the Ghouls. “You are to do whatever my Ghouls desire. Whatever satisfies him shall be what you offer. This is your saving grace, girl. Either that or you can die along with your lover. Choose quickly!”

I swallowed my tears down and glanced back at Damien. His brown eyes were wide and rimmed with tears, pleading with me to say no. I really had no choice in the matter, I knew. It really was my curiosity that led me here, all the questions I had to ask for a juicy article, and now I had to pay the price for the information I desired. In the end, this wasn't about saving my job. If I wanted to save the man I loved from being in fatal danger, I had to offer up my body and soul to this band of sick fucks whom I thought were nothing more than shock-value hounds.

In the Palace of Hell, there is no way out.

I turned to Papa, tears blurring my vision. “I will be your courtesan.”

“Excellent decision, if I say so myself.” Papa smirked the sounds of Damien's agonized screams trumpeting his victory. “Bring the boy to me, girls.”

The nuns barged into the free space in between Papa and I and let go of Damien, letting him fall to his knees.

"Damien!"

I pried myself out of the two Ghouls' tight grips and scurried over to my boyfriend's side, tearing the gag out of his mouth. I buried my head into his chest, taking in one more whiff of his Dior cologne.

"I'm so sorry... I love you, you know that? Tell my family I'm all right. Don't tell anybody I'm here."

"I can't leave you here!" Damien cried, taking my hand as he slowly rose back to his feet. "Come on, we're getting out of here!"

"Damien, please!" I grabbed onto his ankle, not letting him move an inch. "Please, for everyone's sake. I don't want to see anybody get hurt!"

"She's right, you know." Papa took me by my wrist and forced me up to my feet, wrapping his arm around my waist. "You don't want to see anybody get hurt, do you?"

"You sick fucks can't do shit!" Damien protested. "I'm calling the cops once I get back to my car!"

"Damien, don't!"

Papa wrapped his hand over my mouth, staring long and hard at Damien with that same horrifying glint in his eyes.

"Listen well, boy. You are to leave at once. You will not tell a single soul about our rituals, do you understand? I know when a person is unfaithful to me. If I find out that you have spoken about us - and mark my words, it is _very_ easy for me to find out - expect your puerile mind to be inflamed with the guilt of sin."

“Y-yes, sir.” Damien stumbled, stunned by Papa's words. 

“Your lover has redeemed you. She has chosen her fate wisely, and there is no going back.” Papa gestured toward a door in the back of the room. "Ghouls, _portalo via!_ "

The same two Ghouls that restrained me grabbed Damien and dragged him out of the atrium, all while my name echoed throughout the chamber, sharp and hoarse. I collapsed onto my knees again, my cries joining Damien's. We could've suffered through this hell together. Would I even die come tomorrow? Was this still all a sick joke? I wanted to believe I made the right decision to pardon ourselves for my curiosity. I struggled to think of anyone but myself that may have led me to this place, this nightmare where suffering and seduction reigned supreme.

“Oh, my child, will you stop crying?” Papa rested his hand against my back. “This is your home now! We are your family now! _You_ have supplied the sacrifice we needed for tonight. Not a literal one, mind you, but a sacrifice for celebration! And now, let us do precisely that! There is no need to fear us any longer, my little darling.”

I stared up at Papa like a lost child, sniffling through my runny nose.

“Then perhaps you need some rest. Sisters, get her out of my sight.”

The nuns nodded and ushered me away from the clergy. The masked worshippers watched in their stunned silence, utterly captivated by the 'willing' sacrifice. Gold Mask even placed a hand on my shoulder when I walked by her, as if to apologize for what happened. What was there to apologize for? She helped me in the best way she could.

I had become a whore, the true definition of a courtesan, to save myself and my lover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> 'fermala' - 'stop her'  
> 'signora' - 'lady' or 'madame'  
> 'bello' - 'beautiful'  
> 'cortigiana de lume' - 'lower-class courtesan'


	8. The Quintessence Ghoul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosalie makes a new friend.

The nuns pushed me back into my bedroom and slammed the door in my face, screeching with hideous laughter as their footsteps faded away. At the same time, a sliver of light coming from outside flooded into my new, extravagant prison cell, falling atop the dark, wooden floor. I ran up to the window to investigate the source of the light, a Rolls Royce driving down a sprawling road a mile or two away from the mansion, its headlights illuminating the way to freedom.

"Damien!"

I sobbed out my lover's name, banging my fists against the glass. The loud, distorted music and the shrieks of pleasure coming from downstairs pounded in my head, trapping me in a Hell I could never escape from. This would be my life now. I signed a deal with the devil, forcing myself over to a life of chaos, sex, and violence, where who knew if I'd die or become infected with something more dire than a transmittable disease.

When the light vanished, I walked over to my mirror, daring myself to look at my haggard reflection. That same wistful creature I saw in my bathroom mirror last night had returned, only this time, streams of black makeup stained her cheeks, and frizzy, blonde strands hung in her eyes. It was as if a child summoned Bloody Mary to appear in the mirror, only the ghost couldn't bail her way out. There had to be an easy way out of here. Could I escape? Or better yet, _how_ could I escape without these freaks noticing?

I licked the pad of my finger to wipe away the excess makeup on my face and pushed my hair behind my ears. I then covered myself with my cloak and opened the door ajar, peeking through the crack. No one lingered in the hallway, but the music from downstairs swallowed me up like a raging ocean wave. A crazy violin tune over a techno beat made my surroundings shake - that's how loud the music was.

I tiptoed my way down the stairs, entering the now empty atrium. An unmasked woman was bent over the altar bed, scrubbing the stained wood clean. She somehow heard my footsteps on the tile and looked up, staring at me with soft, brown eyes. I had seen them before...

"I told you it's not safe here." The voice of Gold Mask, my 'friend' from earlier, came out of this woman’s mouth, although she now sounded less friendly, more bitter. “Now you won’t be able to leave.”

"I didn't know things would end this way," I said painfully. "I thought I did what was right."

"Nothing in this damn Church is right." The woman dropped her rag into a bucket of dirty water. "I'm Cosima, by the way. At least, that's the name I go by around here.”

"I'm Rosalie."

"Huh, nice name. Better remember it before Papa changes it."

I raised an eyebrow. "Why would Papa want to change my name?"

"In this Church, Papa wants us to believe in the Ghost Project," Cosima explained. "They're a Satanic order disguised as a band so that nobody gets in trouble. People think they're like the Church of Satan, but while the Church of Satan is about doing what is right for you, the Ghost Project thinks that the Devil will take over the world. Everyone thinks it's just a bunch of horse shit, though. People will believe what they want to believe, but the most powerful people think they can change their beliefs in the blink of an eye. And of course, there's some people who have fallen for Papa's spell... myself included."

"And soon me, too?" I asked worriedly.

"More or less." Cosima coughed. "Whatever Papa and the Ghouls do to us women is what Satan supposedly tells them to do. They think the Devil is in all women, so we must entice them and allow them to indulge in their pleasures. That's why they take some of the women from their concerts and present them as virgins. Papa is looking for a very specific woman to carry out the Project's ultimate task, but he hasn't quite found the right one."

"And what would that be? The task, I mean?"

Cosima stirred, disturbed by the thought in her mind.

"I'm... I'm not allowed to tell you, Rosalie. It involves more than what anybody else here can handle." She looked over my shoulder at something in the distance, her eyes wide with fear. "They don't treat us well here. They give us a bed and food and clothing, but we're not allowed to leave. You're in terrible danger, Rosalie! You have to leave, now!"

Cosima buried her head into the altar bed, her tears soaking through the wood. The pain in her words convinced me that I would not be alone, that I wasn't the only woman who suffered in this Church. There must’ve been dozens of women stranded here as well, not able to leave and see the outside world. They were required to be loyal to the Ghost Project, attending every concert and ritual. In the false pretenses of freedom and self discovery, temptation swung from the grappling hook, luring even the most modest of minds in. 

"What are you doing here?"

A Swedish accented voice came from behind a series of black colonnades nearby. A Nameless Ghoul stood in between them, his arms crossed. His green eyes were the same color as the sea, crystal clear with a touch of wondrous blue. They matched the element stitched onto his sash - Water - perfectly.

"I... I was only doing my tasks, sir." Cosima sniffled and raised her head. "Rosalie came out of her bedroom and wanted someone to talk to."

"Y-yeah," I said, nodding my head. "I figured I might as well learn about the place I'm being imprisoned in."

"Silence!" Water took a step toward me and pointed at the set of doors behind him. "Go. Leave us."

Lifting my head up, I walked past the Water Ghoul, glancing over my shoulder at Cosima. A high-pitched shriek and a pleading, "No, please!" vibrated in my eardrums as the Ghoul threw her down on the altar bed, forcing his lips onto hers and squeezing a breast in his thin hand. Her screams were stifled underneath the Ghoul's lips, trapping her in place as he ripped Cosima's dress off her body, freeing supple, heaving breasts. A black, serpentine tongue slid over fair skin, swirling around a pink peak.

"Oh, dear God..." I held my hand to my mouth, stifling a gasp of horror. "That's... it's impossible..."

I pushed open the doors and entered a room where blinding lights greeted me, flashing right into my eyes. Dark, shapeless blurs transformed into the masked worshippers who watched my sacrifice, now carelessly partying the night away. Some danced to the darkwave music playing, some gnawed at what appeared to be rotisserie meat steaming and dripping oil down into a silver dish, and some held bottles of Angry Orchard in their hands, laughing at a trio of girls dressed in black dresses swaying to the beat of the music.

What shocked me the most were what lie on the tables spread throughout the room, draped over with a velvet, purple tablecloth. Some worshippers were engaged in intercourse, the males sheathing themselves into their female partners as they quivered and moaned beneath them.

I diverted my eyes down to the floor, trying not to look. No matter how hard I tried, though, I kept on watching. The Church's worshippers were like wild animals, waiting until the time was right to spread their wings and fly out to the ultimate freedom. But was this freedom the ability to indulge in the sins of the flesh, and nothing more?

A worshipper wearing a jester mask stepped in front of me, shoving his crude, wide grin in my face. He cocked his head to the right, trying to scare me with his intimidating presence.

"Well, well... if it isn't the little sacrificial lamb herself! Why not join us, lovely girl? We aren't as dangerous as you think." The jester grabbed my shoulders and dragged me closer to him, so close that I could hear him take a breath behind his mask. "It's only when we get inside your bed do our true colors show!"

"G-get off of me!" I cried, trying to push the jester away. He wouldn't budge.

A tall shadow loomed over the both of us, one with blue eyes and a towering presence. I heard him inhale sharply behind his mask, as if he were a bull about to stampede out into the ring. His widened, angry eyes intensified that feeling even more.

The jester gasped loudly, falling to his knees.

" _Ciao_ , Brother Quintessence. The little dove has escaped from her cage, as you can see."

Quintessence pushed the jester aside with his big hand, staring at me with those vivid eyes that had stunned me multiple times before. He took my hand and marched me out of the ballroom, traversing through the atrium.

Worriedly, I peered over the Ghoul's shoulder to see what happened Cosima. Her nude body lie on the altar bed, droplets of blood leaking from two fresh wounds in her neck, like a vampire's victim. Water hovered over her, lapping up the blood with his black, forked tongue, dark against Cosima's stark, pale skin.

"No!" I screamed, hiding my face with my hand. "You can't do this!"

Quintessence's grip on my wrist tightened as he trudged me up the staircase and kicked my bedroom door open with just his foot. I expected to be thrown back into my room, thrust back into the darkness, but once the Ghoul closed the door, he let go of my wrist and gestured toward my bed brusquely. Lucky me. This might be the first Nameless Ghoul I'm forced to fuck, and Quintessence happened to be the biggest and most threatening looking of them all. So much for my sick, twisted fantasies.

"Yy-you aren't going to hurt me, aren't you?" I whimpered, leaning my back against the bedpost. "P-please d-don't..."

Quintessence silently walked up to me and placed his cold hand on my cheek. He used his thumb to wipe away the tears trailing down my face, closing his eyes as if to think of the right things to say.

"What makes you think that I would hurt you?" Quintessence spoke with a low, adenoidal voice, most likely from smoking, but a warmth tinge of kindness managed to break through the rasp.

"The way you Ghouls..." I stumbled. "The way you Ghouls... really are. What I saw downstairs was the scariest thing I'll ever experience. You sacrifice innocent people and kidnap women and turn them into sex slaves! How the hell do you even have a record deal, anyway? You're lunatic Satanists and now I have to give myself up to all of you!"

"I sincerely apologize for what Papa has done," Quintessence said in his slightly creepy voice, "but unfortunately, I cannot do much. All I can tell you is that Papa has been waiting for your arrival for a while now. He's had it planned out. Not because of your work as a reporter, but... for a special project of ours."

"That's what the girl downstairs told me! Tell me." I took a step closer. "Why am I being forced to stay here?"

"I'm not allowed to tell you. If I do, Papa would harm not just you, but my brothers and I as well."

"I don't give a shit! All of you are soulless monsters!"

Quintessence looked down at the floor and twisted one of his rings around on his finger. When he glanced back up at me, a predatory look lingered in his eyes, suggesting that he was possibly fighting back the urge to outright kill me.

"Let me tell you what a Ghoul is. Everyone says we're creatures tasked to spread evil all around the world. They also happen to think we rape women, sacrifice people to the Devil... but that is not our endgame. Ghouls have feelings, too, no different than the average human. Nobody thinks about what a Ghoul possibly believes. We're not allowed to live normal lives, so this is why we are this way. But I think I'm the only one who still remembers what a human life was like."

"Hh-human?" Now he was trying to tell me he wasn't just an unknown man wearing a mask?

"We really are monsters, like you said." Quintessence stared off into the distance. "We were once meager souls who loved music. That was, until the day the Project recruited us and made us who we are."

I straightened up. "But... how monstrous are you, really? What's behind your mask? Can I see?"

Hesitantly, Quintessence lifted up his hood and mask and pulled the black balaclava he wore to just above his upper lip. His lips were cracked and gray, flaking like drywall, and his chin was so pale that his skin was actually a light shade of gray. He opened his mouth and revealed his tongue, forked and black like Water's. The slice in the middle made me initially recoil in disgust, but the longer I looked at it, the more I thought about the pain that lingered in his words. This Ghoul once lived a better life, one that didn't consist of playing songs about Satan and touring around the world to recruit new worshippers.

"I think I've seen worse."

Quintessence quickly slid his mask and hood back on.

“Of course, each Ghoul has his differences. The only thing we share is that we are forever damned with the purpose to serve no one but the Project."

“What about Papa?" I then remembered. "Does he look like this, too?”

“How do you think he goes around looking human and sounding younger than he really is? It’s all in his power. He knows his time is limited so he's definitely going to use it to his advantage. He is the one who spreads our message out to the masses, so obviously he’s going to earn more respect for that. Once his time is up, he will only get replaced. However, we will not. We are supposed to thrive until the band dies out; in that case, we are dead, too. The press thinks that our image and music is messing up the world, sending the wrong message. But look at the bands that sing about guns and crime and whatnot. No one understands the true message of our words, not even my brothers. We once were about teaching people how to embrace their darker sides and shelter them from the world. Now, it is nothing but corruption and violation."

“So what exactly is a Nameless Ghoul?”

Quintessence's piercing blue eyes stared longingly into mine.

“A person manipulated by the Devil to do whatever he wishes. Someone that sells their soul for an indulgent thing like fame. A mistake I personally made.”

So the myths and rumors circulating the band were true. These guys actually did sell their souls for rock and roll, ignorant of the consequences that lay beneath the surface. This Quintessence Ghoul that stood before me had undergone a painful transformation, changing more into a monster in the years that passed. Sympathy reigned supreme in his mind, reminding him of a time of humanity and well-being. He didn't even seem to like playing second fiddle to Papa, the dark messiah everyone worshipped. There were still things I wanted to ask Quintessence, things I desperately needed to know - not just for my article, should I ever come to write it, but because I genuinely wanted to know him as a person and not just an anonymous musician.

“ _Hej_ , Omega, what are you doing in there?"

Quintessence - or Omega, as his 'name' really seemed to be - instantly recognized the voice behind the door. He quickly pinned me down to my bed and caressed my face, to create an illusion that he was indeed going to fuck me. I forced myself to stare into his eyes, to try and find some meaning to them. The blue hue that once frightened me now reminded me of sadness, a longing for home and the family he left behind. 

“Fuck, Omega, you want action from the courtesan, too?" Another blue-eyed Ghoul - Earth, as I noticed the upside-down, crossed through triangle symbol on his sash - snuck up behind Omega, glancing down at me as he shook his head. "Alpha’s downstairs fucking his virgin and he’s still unsatisfied. He’s complaining that he won’t be the first to sample the courtesan.”

“I didn’t go too far with her," Omega said, jumping off the bed. "We've got a code, you know."

“Enough with the fucking code, Omega. Papa did away with it for a good reason.”

Omega and Earth left without a single parting word. I wiped away remnants of my makeup with my wrist, sniffling away more sobs. What was I to make of my life now? Would the Ghouls start coming to me for their sick, sexual purposes, or would Papa outright kill me, forcing me on top of the altar bed? I couldn't trust anyone here, no matter how benevolent they seemed. If this was the lesson the Church of Ghost wanted to teach me, then so be it.

After all, I lived in Hell now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> 'ciao' - 'hello'  
> 'hej' - 'hey'
> 
> But I'm pretty sure you guys know these, lol.


	9. A Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosalie is visited by Papa Emeritus, but what is he like out of costume and unholy face paint?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for sexual assault.
> 
> Lyrics to 'Beast Within' belong to In This Moment.

**THE NEXT AFTERNOON**

The ear-splitting buzzing of an alarm clock woke me up. I rubbed my tired eyes, squinting as bright rays of sunshine crept out from the black curtains, nearly blinding me. I drove my fist right into the snooze button, noticing that it was already 3:45 pm. Had I really slept in so late? I never did such a thing. At this point, I couldn't even call Berkeley and tell him I must've blacked out in the middle of the night.

I stumbled out of bed and toward the window, pushing away the curtains to stare out at the canyons in the distance. What a pretty view, I thought, but as my eyes lowered to the thicket of sequoia trees below, I remembered I wasn't home. I was the Ghost Project's prisoner now, stranded in this abbey until Papa set me free... whenever that may be. I had no idea what the Nameless Ghouls would do to me in the next few hours. Rape me, torture me, spit in my face and call me a whore? The only thing I could do was take a deep breath and pray that whatever awaited me today wouldn't be that bad.

I pushed my door open and quietly tiptoed out of my bedroom. Being on the second floor of the mansion, I could look out to the atrium from the hallway. The tinted red chamber was eerily quiet and still in the daylight, undisturbed. This allowed me to really take in the room's strange beauty, the cues it took from classic Gothic architecture. A ribbed ceiling soared over the room, making the atrium appear taller than it was wide. Stained glass windows covered the walls, depicting devilish creatures dancing before a raging fire, similar to the backdrop at the concert. Papa's pulpit carved in dark wood stood on a raised platform covered with red velvet, while the altar bed stood nearby, scrubbed clean. Frankly, the atrium was a lot less menacing when not lit by candlelight and occupied by masked worshippers. However, I was left with the feeling that if I wasn't careful, this room would be where my end occurred.

"Papa?" There was no reply or sight of the sinister minister, or anyone for that matter. "Hello? Is anyone here?"

I came to the conclusion that Papa and the Ghouls were either getting ready for tonight's show or possibly even still sleeping. There had to be a reason why the alarm clock went off so late. Of course, as Omega mentioned, the Ghouls were creatures of the night, men slowly transforming into literal monsters. They never embraced the sunlight unless there were others present, like at a festival. Or maybe this was a weird test to see if I’d stay and keep true to my word. The opportunity to escape was right in front of me, too easy to access. The moment the creaky sound of the old, wooden doors echoed throughout the atrium, I knew a Nameless Ghoul would be hot on my heels.

Sticking with this belief, I returned to my bedroom. A black, acoustic guitar that definitely wasn't in here before gleamed in the sunlight on my bed, sitting along with a blue guitar pick with the symbol of Quintessence etched into the plastic. Omega's symbol, I recalled, as I sat on the bed and placed the guitar in my lap. My fingers twitched as I brought the pick to the strings and clumsily started to improvise; my guitar-playing skills were a bit rusty. 

 _I don’t know how I got here_  
_But we cannot get out_  
_I’m surrounded by strangers_  
_As the music starts to pound_  
_I see the bodies slowly swayin’_  
_Movin’ side to side_  
_I feel the animal is rising_  
_As I slowly come alive_

I winced at my off-key singing. It’s been years since I actually sang - was it for a high school production or the church choir? I didn’t remember. 

 _So everybody starts to move now_  
_I wanna see you all give way_  
_I wanna tear this place apart tonight_  
_And have you thank me for my rage_  
_Tell me what you came for_  
_Can I give you just a taste?_  
_I wanna see you lose your fucking minds_  
_And rip apart this place_

"Shit... how did the chorus go?"

I glanced in the direction of my door, hoping I'd somehow find an answer there.

Instead, a bald, mustachioed man wearing dark sunglasses stood in the doorway, his gloved fingertips rhythmically tapping against the wooden door frame.

"Jesus!" Startled, the guitar fell from my hands, landing to the floor with a thud.

"Not quite." The man's lips curled up in a devious smirk as he closed the door behind him.

I only knew of one person who'd be so weird to wear sunglasses indoors.

“Papa?" 

“ _Si, si_!"

So, Papa Emeritus just stumbled into my room. On stage, he painted his face up like death's head, a true monster. The man in front of me was the exact opposite. He looked more like someone who frequented the Moonlight Bunny Ranch, picking the finest prostitute they offered.

"Yes, this is what I look like without all that greasepaint on my face." Papa's forehead crinkled at my supposed deer-in-the-headlights expression. "I am such an old man, aren’t I?”

“You, uh…” I honestly had no idea how to reply without offending the man who threatened to kill Damien and I last night. “You can still pick up girls, apparently."

Papa cackled at this remark. “You are a witty girl, no? I may be nearing sixty, but the women still crave a hard, sexy beat. At the rituals, they crave for my attention, wanting to join my harem for the honor of being fucked by the one and only.” His gloved hand caressed my face, letting his fingertips linger on my chin. “Damn feminine wiles. They say that lust can easily take over one’s mind. But, you know what they say! I am the son who comes into the daughters of men, destroying all and making them want it again. Oh, wait." He laughed as if he told the best joke of all time. "I wrote that!"

“So, if it's okay for me to ask," I began to ask nervously, "who exactly were those girls you were with at Treasure Island?"

"Those girls mean nothing to me, really." Papa's voice got cold. "They're just two more devotees fighting for my attention, but something... _interesting_ about their ways of pleasure stuck out to me. Their devotion and loyalty has earned them the right to become my dutiful Sisters of Sin. But why do you ask about them, hmm? Are you going to mention them in your article?"

My heart stopped for a moment. Perhaps freedom was closer than I thought it was.

“Oh, wait. Your beautiful sacrifice has earned you a special spot in our Church, Rosalina. I'm afraid I can't let you go."

“Uh… my name is Rosalie." Why was everyone butchering my name lately?

"No, no, let me call you that."

Papa slid his hand beneath the top of my dress to cup one of my breasts, his thumb resting on my nipple. He used his other hand to tilt me by the chin, forcing me to look through those dark sunglasses, his eyes barely visible behind the glass. I couldn't help but flinch at his sudden, intimate touch. I wasn't a prostitute he could sit around with, trying to stimulate false passion and desire. 

"You are a beautiful girl, do you know that? It's as if fate brought you to me in the time I needed you the most. You are an angel who fled from Heaven to serve her rightful duty in Hell." He slid his leathery knuckles against my jaw. "I can give you everything your heart desires, Rosalina. You are my Ghouls' courtesan now, so you must receive some type of reward for your... duties."

I bit down on the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood. Papa was disturbingly seductive like Cosima had mentioned, and I realized that my passive nature captivated him in his sick, twisted way. I reflected back to the concert and the way he looked at me then, his mismatched eyes wide with longing, as if recognizing me from somewhere. A more chaste look in his eyes than at the ritual, where he viewed me as a traitor, a mousy little reporter set out to ruin the Church's secrets.

Guilt almost thinned my blood. Some secrets simply shouldn't be unlocked for how dangerous they were. 

“You have talent, and I know fame is one of your burning desires. You want to be fucked hard, and you want the world to accept you for something you strive to be. You want to _lose yourself_.”

“How did you know?”

He read through my notepad, that snooping fuck! Amidst interview notes and doodles, I kept a certain page about my goals and desires. One of them, and I quote, was to “lose myself,” although I never got around to finishing that thought. Lose myself how? In the throes of sexual exploration? In the middle of Wal-Mart?

“Because many of the people who stumbled into this Church had the same desires as you did. I gave them what they wanted. I gave them everything, and I can do the same for you. Remember, if you have Ghost…”

“You have everything!” 

Papa gave a little chuckle. “You are starting to understand, my little darling. Soon, you shall be reborn in the name of Mammon, of Lucifer and Belial. He'll give you everything you've always dreamed of, but most importantly, _I_ will make you the woman you always wished to be. You must accept me as your savior, Rosalina. I will show you the way to your destiny…”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, preparing myself for the worse. He never mentioned that I'd be his courtesan too, just the Ghouls'. Did he come here to ready me for my new fate? He probably did this to the other women - barge into their rooms, stick his cock inside of them, and call it a day. Essentially, rape. I couldn't think of Papa even asking someone for their consent.

I opened my eyes. Papa's face took up every last inch of my peripheral vision, so close that I smelled his breath, wine-scented. His old man mask had to be the most detailed mask I ever saw, down to the deep wrinkles in his forehead and the bushy eyebrows and the individual strands of hair that made up his pencil-stache. His face was as smooth as stone, fresh and polished, and when my cheek accidentally grazed against his, a little scratchy, suggesting he recently shaved.

“…with me.”

_His face isn’t a mask!_

Papa's lips crashed down onto mine, before I could take the time to stop and react that the man I thought was simply a stage character was in fact real. The spicy aroma of his cologne unsettled me, clogging up my nose - that's how close he was, so close that I stumbled back-first onto my bed and lost my balance. He leaned in, deepening the kiss by sliding his tongue into my mouth, sucking on my bottom lip so vigorously. The pit of my stomach ached - this would not end well at all.

 _Don’t just sit there,_ a voice inside my head told me, _fight back!_

Regaining my senses, I kicked Papa away and jumped back onto my feet. Ooh, the girl had some bite in her bark!

Papa backed away from me, placing a trembling hand on the wall to steady himself. He cowered, the coward he was, as I raised out my hand and thwacked the sunglasses off his face, revealing his small, beady eyes. One green, one white, just as they've always been. I then stabbed him right in the eye with my finger, feeling around his eyeball for a second or two in the hopes that a contact lens would stick to my finger. But when I pulled out, nothing appeared.

Papa grinned like the Cheshire cat, noticing my defeat.

"Did you really think I was an actor, Rosalina?"

"I heard you've been waiting for me, Papa," I said, dodging his question. "You think I'm going to help you summon Satan or something? Is that the reason why you've brought me here?"

Papa chuckled lowly, stumbling toward me with a hand over his eye. "You're such a clever, clever girl, Rosalina. It didn't take very long for you to figure that out, did it? I will not reveal my foretold intentions for you just yet, but I can tell you this." He stood so that his body barricaded the door. "Lilith will help us in earning Lucifer's eternal praise."

"Well, I'm telling you now, old man, it's not going to happen!"

I jumbled the doorknob and kicked the door open, running underneath Papa's arm and out of the room like a bird accidentally freed from its cage. My heart rattled in my chest like a drum, pounding in my ears as I ran as fast as my feet could take me, down the winding staircase and past the atrium. I couldn't stop for breath - if I stopped just for a second my cover would be blown.

"Get her, Ghouls!" I heard Papa shout from the second floor. "Your courtesan is running away!"

Pushing the double set of doors open, I ran out of the mansion. I didn't think to stop, even as my throat burned from dehydration and the blazing Nevada heat burned on my skin. I stumbled over the rocks that made up the pathway, muttering in pain as my feet grazed against them, but once they hit the tiled driveway, I considered myself victorious in my surprisingly easy attempt to escape. Now this would be a good story to put in my Ghost article – to quote Mr. Berkeley, “Just think how it’ll sell! Local Woman Escapes from Satanist Cult!"

"I'm free, motherfuckers! Come and catch me if you can!”

The black iron gate cutting off this world from the real world stood just feet away, closer and closer until finally, I took a deep breath, resting my hand against the door. In just a few seconds, I'd make it to freedom. It wasn't very far. All I needed to do now was find someone willing to drive me home. I'd be a hitchhiker, yes, but only for a moment.

I sighed in relief and pushed the door open, crossing into the sweltering humidity. I used to hate the sun, but now I cherished it, especially being in the cold, stuffy mansion. My bare foot grazed against the sandy road - one more to go! But for some reason or another, my other foot remained on the tile, my ankle stiffening as if locked into place, grabbed by someone...

I dared to look up.

A Ghoul punched a blow to my head, and everything went black.


	10. Blood and Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosalie’s attempt to escape from the Church lands her in a situation that will haunt her mind forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains scenes of graphic torture and violence. Please read at your own discretion.

**SOME HOURS LATER.**

"Wake up, _slampa!_ "

A sharp slap that stung through my cheek woke me up. My eyes burned as they opened, absorbing the minimal amount of candlelight illuminating this dank, dark room, chilly and scented of aged wine. An unfamiliar pain pulsated throughout my entire body, from my aching shoulders to my throbbing knees. My arms were spread up and behind my back like a bird's wings pinned down onto a dissection tray, tied at the wrists so I wouldn't be able to break free. Goosebumps prickled on my nude flesh, while a clammy moisture dripped down my chest and settled just below my breasts. Greasy, blonde tendrils hung disheveled atop my shoulders, freed from the bun I'd been wearing for a day or two now.

I must've looked like someone thrown into the fires of Hell, her corpse retrieved from the flames so she could live an entire eternity of suffering. Suffering in Hell seemed like a better fate than standing bound and bruised, waiting for whatever punishment Papa and the Ghouls would soon bestow upon me for trying to escape. They didn't want the pretty thing to die so soon, oh no. After all, she hadn't even gotten her chance to play yet!

When my eyes finally adjusted to the dark, I examined my torture chamber more closely. This room appeared to be the mansion's cellar - that would explain the wine smell. In fact, a sizable collection of wine barrels and bottles sat stocked behind me, the bottles carefully packaged in wooden crates. I even caught a glimpse of whatever had turned me into the angel with broken wings, but only through shadow. A taut wire hung from a hook on the ceiling, slanted at an angle to ensure my arms didn't flop down to my sides. Even if I tried to move my arms, they were stuck in one place. A spreader bar pried my legs open, cuffed at the ankles with a thick chain just inches away from the floor. Whoever had strung me up did a very good job of making sure I couldn't free myself from my bounds.

And then, I saw them. Five pairs of emotionless, vacant eyes peering through the darkness, devouring the sight of my body like vultures examining their soon-to-be meal. They must've been standing here for who knows how long, feasting their eyes on every part that would soon be theirs to fondle, to impale. I could've sworn I even saw a hint of tongue behind one of the Ghouls' masks, licking his charred lips thoughtfully as he thought of what he'd do to me.

The scream that passed through my lips was guttural and raw, rattling in my chest. I prayed to God to help me get out of here alive, but as one Ghoul reminded me last night, there is no God. He doesn't love me anymore, although I never quite believed in Him.

"Ahh... Rosalina..." Papa joined his anonymous clergy, dressed and made up as his parody of the Pope once more. His black-and-white lips spread in a morbid smile as he took in the sight of my nude body, focusing intently on my stiffening breasts. "I see that you've been getting acquainted with my Ghouls?"

"N-not really," I stammered guiltily, my lip quivering.

"Speak up!" Papa crashed the bottom of his scepter onto the floor. "I cannot hear you when you mumble like that!"

"I said not really!" My attempt to raise my already feeble voice was a farce to him.

"Well, this is your chance to get a little more... comfortable with them. You know, before they are allowed to fully put their trust into their courtesan, if you catch my drift." Papa took a step closer to me, his chasuble briefly sliding against my bare leg. "Do you know why we've imprisoned you here in the cellar, Rosalina?"

"I... I d-don't know.”

"Speak to Papa politely!" Alpha slapped my cheek so hard that a whittling sound echoed throughout the cellar. 

"I don't know why I'm here, Father!"

Papa chuckled. "That's better, _cara._ Now, do you remember trying to escape, Rosalina?"

"Y-yes, Father." I had been so close to freedom, literally a step away. And yet, I was so far.

"Do you realize that attempting to leave the Church of Ghost is an act punishable by death, Rosalina?"

My heart sank to my chest. Then again, why should it surprise me?

"N-no, Father."

"I must also mention your assault as another crime. Poking me in the eye was a rather..." Papa struggled to find the correct word without breaking into laughter. "Original idea of yours, but it is still insolence. Violence against the clergy is punishable by death as well."

"I didn't know, Papa!" I shook in my bounds, pain coursing through my body. "How am I supposed to know how this goddamn freak Church works?"

"Shut your fucking mouth!" Alpha tugged on my hair and forced my head up with one hand, using the other to dig his coarse fingernails into my cheeks. "No one gives a shit what you think!"

"Then you can kill me now, if that's what you want," I hissed as Alpha's hand fell from my face. "Kill me right here, right now! I don't care. I'll be a martyr for the other girls who were in my place."

Papa clicked his tongue, unimpressed by my remarks. "You have sacrificed yourself for us, Rosalina. However, I cannot allow for your defiance to go unpunished. We have let you and that gentile boy of yours stay alive, and  _this_ is how you repay me?" He gave a smug smile. "We do so much for our worshippers, and yet, they give us so little in return, especially rebellious ones like you.”

The tall, brown-eyed Air Ghoul that brought me to this place parted from the dark sea and placed a hand on Alpha's shoulder, gesturing for him to leave. He glided toward me like a gust of wind, pulling out a freshly sterilized needle from his cassock.

"W-what is that?" I shook in my bounds, my body freezing up. "What are you going to do?"

Air's veiny knuckles brushed past my womanhood and dark, pubic curls as he brought the left side of my navel close to him, pale and plump in his hand.

Then, the tip of his needle pricked my skin.

"FUCK!"

I bit down on my lip so hard I tasted blood, grunting as pain pulverized my entire body. My skin burned against the fine tip of the needle, and it didn't help that Air drew with such intentionally thick strokes, up and down and briefly off to the side. I didn't even want to think about what he was drawing on my skin, inking me with a tattoo I didn't want, yet I already knew. It was that damn inverted cross every woman seemed to have emblazoned on their skin, their symbol that they were property of the Ghost Project.

They were branding me like livestock, giving me my symbol for slaughter.

"It hurts..." I groaned, panting like a dog in need of water.

"Quit your crying, girl," Papa said coldly. This man knew nothing of empathy. "Getting a tattoo is _child's play_ compared to what Brother Fire has planned for you. It is tradition for the women of our Church to receive our mark! Soon, you will wear our Grucifix with pride."

Rather than glancing down at my new tattoo, I looked right into Omega's bright blue eyes for comfort, reassurance. He still had my back, didn't he? While the Ghouls' eyes were glassy and emotionless, Omega's were more distinguishable, wide and flaring in anger. Just through his eyes alone, I could tell he desperately wanted to do something, maybe speak out against what the rest of the clergy approved of, all because I listened to his words and tried to get out of this living nightmare before it claimed me.

"Help me..." I whimpered. "I can't..."

"Why are you crying girl? I haven't even touched you yet."

Alpha joined me at my side again, this time wielding a black riding crop in his hands. He smacked the whip against the creaking floorboards, startling me in my limited position.

"Yes... I can sense your fear. You know you were wrong... and I'm here to remind you what happens to people who break our trust." Alpha turned to Papa. "How many whips do I give the girl, Emeritus?"

"Thirty in total, Brother Fire," Papa replied. "Twenty for her escape attempt, and ten for her earlier brashness."

Before Papa even completed his sentence, Alpha swung the whip against my bare back, knocking out the air in me. My body lurched forward as a hoarse scream exited my mouth, burning the inside of my throat.

" _Uno_." 

Tailbone this time. I could already feel my skin growing sensitive, more susceptible to the pain.

" _Due_."

Left shoulder. As my head drooped down, I noticed fresh blood on Alpha's hands.

" _Tre, quattro, cinque, sei, sette, otto_."

Left hip, right shoulder, right hip, one ass cheek, then the other, and my left ankle. With each incoming lash, my urge to scream slowly faded. No matter how bloody my body became or how much my lashes burned and tore open my skin, my goal was to show Papa and the Ghouls that I would not let them break me, no matter how hard they tried. There was no way I could defend myself in this Church that worshipped the most evil of Gods. This was merely a demonstration of how fanatical these men had become, letting obsession take over their minds. Whoever defied them must be tarnished until they became the prime example of how evil still lurked in the hearts of men.

" _Sedici._ " Neck. The harshest, bloodiest of them all.

"I'm so, so, sorry for defying you, Papa Emeritus, Father!" My own desperate screams rattled in my ears. "I will never leave here ever again! Please, Father, I have learned my lesson!"

Slowly, Papa motioned his hand for Alpha to stop. The riding crop fell to the floor with a thud.

“So the punishment is working for you, but you best promise me what you will do now that you have experienced a rude awakening.”

“I will…" I panted as sweet air filled my lungs, so delicious and fresh. "I will stay here… and never go back. I will give your Nameless Ghouls… everything they want from me.”

“And where is your home now, girl?” Papa took great delight in my humiliation and suffering, stifling back his laughter.

“The Church of Ghost… The Church of Ghost… is my home now.”

Papa smiled sickly. “I believe you have indeed learned your lesson, _cara mia_. Alpha, you are finished. Don’t worry about the other lashes. My little darling managed to defend herself out of them.”

I hung my head, my consciousness slipping out of my grasp.

Finally. It had ended.

Omega rushed to my side and untied my wrists from my bounds, freeing the flightless bird. Immediately losing my balance, I fell right into his arms, heaving right into the soft fabric of his pellegrina.

"I'm going to help you," Omega quietly whispered in my ear. His broad hand stroked my wet cheek, his feeling of his cold ring soothing me. "Don't worry. They're going to fucking pay for this, all of them."

"Omega!" Papa lunged toward Omega and tore him off of me. "Did I instruct you to free Rosalina?"

"Can't you see how much pain she's in?" Omega shouted, gesturing toward my bloody wounds. "She must go to the infirmary!"

"I can give a shit less. She's not entirely done with her punishment yet. It is a shame we will have to postpone her initiation." Papa glared back at me in disgust, clicking his tongue. "I advise that you never touch Rosalina without my permission ever again, Omega, unless you'd like a nice whipping as well. You've been asking for one lately, with your threats of running away and exposing your past identity for... dare I say... fame?"

Omega's eyes went stone cold. "Forgive me, Father."

Papa pushed Omega away and looked down at me. “You will stay here until the end of our ritual tonight. I believe the Sisters of Sin requested to teach you more about… pleasuring my Ghouls tomorrow afternoon. You will learn our ways soon, Rosalina, and once you do, you will bring to us what we need to please our master.”

Papa exited the cellar, with Alpha, Air, Water, and Earth following behind him. Once they were gone, Omega bent down and took a handkerchief from out of his cassock pocket, stretching out his arm to wipe away the streaming blood on my body. He approached the area of my tattoo, cleaning it gently, softly, wiping away wet smudges of ink and blood. The pain surged through me yet again, as if the needlepoint still pierced my flesh.

"G-get me out of h-here..." It felt like I was choking whenever I spoke. "I-I just w-wanted to g-go home..."

"I'm so sorry." Omega brought me back into his arms. "The clergy doesn't know a single thing when it comes to one imprisoned in this hell."

Tears filled my eyes again. At least Omega understood what I felt, being a prisoner of a cult.

"Omega... stay with me, please..." I grabbed onto his pellegrina, trying to steady myself.

"I'm bringing you to the infirmary." With a simple pull, Omega pried the spreader bar off my ankles and scooped me up into his arms. "Fuck what Papa thinks. If Sister Luce doesn't dress those wounds right away you could get a terrible infection."

I rested my head against his chest as he carried me away from the cellar and down a cold, dark hallway, presumably underneath the mansion. The scent of sandalwood and cologne on Omega's cassock began to calm me down, bringing me into a more relaxed state. Why would've known my knight in shining armor was actually some sort of demon with an angel's gentle soul, yet trapped in Hell? The most broken of souls looked out for their own, but even then, I was still weak, powerless against a Nameless Ghoul.

I knew it was too dangerous to give in - succumbing was an act of weakness. But this Nameless Ghoul that stood before me, with his enthralling blue eyes and warm kindness, may be the just the key in helping me survive my torment in the Church of Ghost, however long they may reign.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> 'slampa' - 'slut' (Yeah, Alpha isn't very nice to Rosalie.)  
> 'cara' - 'dear'  
> 'sedici' - 'sixteen' (So Papa counts to sixteen.)  
> 'cara mia' - 'my darling'


	11. Anything For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosalie decides to turn the tables and play a game that could cost her her life.

The infirmary bed was soft, a welcoming feeling after being trapped in the cold, vulnerable air of the cellar. My cheek burned against the cotton pillow as I bundled myself up in the woolen blankets, shrouding my heavily bandaged body. Even as I tightly wrapped myself into my cocoon, waves of pain still flushed throughout my body, flaring up the spots where Alpha's whip tore open my skin.

I desperately wanted sleep - I cherished it now, after all I've been through - but as endless pain submerged through me and the ritual music played loudly upstairs, sleeping was pointless. I now dreaded the dreams that would eventually come to my head, reminding me that the place I was trapped in wasn't the dark fantasy Papa promised. This was only a cruel nightmare created from a pure sadist's hand.

"Take good care of this one." Omega said to Sister Luce, a nurse of the infirmary, when he brought me here. I feigned slumber to eavesdrop, curious to catch any details he wasn't able to say to my face. "She's been through quite a lot."

"Is this the reporter girl?" Sister Luce asked with her light, airy voice.

"Rather, she is our courtesan," Omega answered a bit hesitantly. "Papa's not letting her out anytime soon, I'm afraid."

"Oh..." Luce's voice faltered. "Then I hope she will bring you and the Nameless Ghouls what you need to fulfill your task behind the mask."

"For as long as she stands by him."

"Yes... for as long as she stands by him."

Omega and the others left an hour or so later to return to the Strip and perform in front of the communal fans that doubled as the Church's worshippers. It was so simple yet so powerful how obsession could change a person, darkening their hearts as their minds became tainted by fanatical passion. With Papa's voice and the Ghouls' melodies, their Satanic spell worked upon several. Innocent women fell for their mystery and charisma, becoming witches of the night, aware of their bodies and their own ability to seduce. How was it that a band, this Ghost Project, had a record label and could conjure up something so wicked?

Now, hours later, the Eyes Wide Shut music played above me. I lay in my cot huddled in my blankets, wondering how I'd need to speak to Papa in order to gain his respect and ultimately, my freedom. I must treat him as if he were my savior, the one who brought me to my undiscovered salvation - even if salvation meant indulging in the pleasures most people feared.

Good will and virtue did not matter here. All my life, I had been taught to be nice and kind, because obedience and meekness were what most thrived on, to lure their prey. In the end, kindness left you vulnerable for corruption. 

"You want to lose yourself." Papa's voice echoed in my head.

But how far can I go without losing my mind?

After psalms of Satan and the coming of seed (I didn't want to know what exactly Papa meant by that), the ending keyboard parts of 'Monstrance Clock' droned on. It was the kind of music you'd hear when exiting church after Sunday mass, music made to lift up your soul after praising the Lord, but more sinister, dark. After all, this was the darkest of religions being praised here.

At the same time, blessed light flooded into the infirmary. Someone was here to check up on me. Maybe it was Cosima, the golden masked worshipper from yesterday, and she'd help me get out of here. If I had listened to her, maybe I'd be back home with Damien, preparing to write the article of a lifetime.

Sadly, the person who stepped into the door frame and more or less revealed his identity through shadow was not my gold masked acquaintance. His Grucifix scepter served as his scythe and his miter easily added a few inches to his short stature.

Anxiously, I bunched up the wool blankets in my hand. I didn't want to see his skeletal-painted face or hear that rumbling Italian accent. But no matter how much I feared Papa, I knew my goal now was to win his trust through the sickest means possible.

I must become the starry-eyed worshipper wishing for corruption.

I couldn't plead for my freedom anymore - too many times and it would lead me straight to my death, as bizarre as that sounded. My captors were the kind of people who thought cries for help were moans of pleasure, that a woman only existed for sexual purposes, to arouse and entice. There were girls like me imprisoned in the cellar before, whipped and tattooed into submission, forced to sign their lives away to win the Ghouls' lustful satisfaction. It's how society worked these days, as if humanity never evolved.

There was a moral code Omega briefly mentioned though, a code that perhaps kept the Ghouls in check. Why did Papa do away with it? Are his Ghouls too easy to crack?

_No, Rosalie, you aren't a reporter anymore. Stop asking so many questions._

Papa bent down to my level and stroked my cheek, admiring my stillness. It was both amazing and mortifying how a man so heartless and cold was able to show affection for his prisoner. He wasn't able to balance his emotions, between his lust and hatred, like Judge Frollo with Esmeralda. This was the tableaux of a classic horror movie scene - whereas Dracula hovered over the unsuspecting Lucy in his insatiable thirst for blood, the lecherous old priest crept near the virginal young woman, craving nothing but her body and blood. My heart stung as I thought this over, wondering how exactly the supernatural were able to thrive in this world. It was utterly impossible living among demons, creatures of the night. I still refused to believe it.

"Rosalina..." Papa crooned my new name, savoring it with a sigh. "My little devil, my prying Pandora... I am so sorry the Ghouls treated you as they did. They've been... frustrated lately. I don't understand why they decided to take out their anger on you."

"What do you mean, Papa?" I mustered up my most innocent-sounding voice and turned my head away from the pillow. For a moment, I thought I saw Papa shudder underneath his chasuble when our eyes locked. "I tried to escape. I had to be punished for my... virtuous actions."

"Virtuous actions, you say?" Papa raised a greasepaint-coated eyebrow. "You're catching on rather quickly. We wouldn't want our angel gaining her wings and flying away from the Palace of Hell, no?"

I gave a haughty chuckle, more formed from how cheesy Papa's words sounded.

"I'm not an angel, Papa. I'm a devil, just like you said."

"Not quite, my dove. It will take you some time before you turn just as wicked as the rest of the women in this Church."

"I'll have to adapt, won't I?" I gave a lop-sided smile, my pathetic attempt of being seductive. "Perhaps in my new life here in the Church of Ghost, I'll be more open to embrace the things I've always feared. Being embraced with love has haunted my dreams for as long as I can remember, and now it's time for me to fulfill that dream."

Fuck, that sounded so horrendous! I'm not sure if anyone still spoke as if they were in a romantic novel from the nineteenth century, but judging by the way Papa's eyes lit up in admiration, I'd take it that being eloquent turned him on.

"Oh, Rosalina! Your poetic words, they touch me!" Papa placed a hand over his heart in an oddly dramatic nature. "I am but an old man, yet my heart is still young and restless. You have almost stolen it!"

"Maybe there's something else of mine you can steal," I said under my breath, faintly so that he wouldn't be able to hear. He'd already taken my freedom, but there were so many other things that could be now be Papa's possessions. My soul, my sanity, my motivation.

We spoke no more as Papa carried me back to my bedroom, which thankfully was undisturbed and empty. If I wanted to survive in this nightmare of a place, I had no choice but to play Papa's powerful game. I had to pretend I was extremely grateful for Papa and the Ghouls letting me stay here, as opposed to becoming the next sacrifice on the altar bed. This was only the first day of many. If I shaped up now, I could only imagine how I'd be treated in a month's time. Would I be respected and loved like the girls of Papa's harem, or lonely and confused like the dancing virgins? After all, it was my assignment to practically be this band’s deranged groupie, and now I'd be able to play that role, just as Berkeley wanted me to do.

"Now, I hope you rest well tonight." Papa carefully laid me down on the bed. 'Tomorrow will be a rather important day for you. The Sisters of Sin will begin their lessons in the art of pleasure with you, and trust me when I say they know everything when it comes to a good fuck. They are already more than happy to pass on their knowledge to you."

"And then what?" I asked.

A hideous smirk spread on Papa's face.

"And then, you will undergo your initiation to become one of us. I told the worshippers it'll be a grand spectacle of an event. Now rest, my little darling. You need it."

Papa turned to leave, his chasuble trailing behind him.

“Can I tell you one more thing before you go, Papa?”

He stopped in his tracks.

“I’m really, really sorry about trying to escape. Really, I am. My punishment made me realize that this place is my home now. You’ve accepted me with open arms, and I need to remember that. This is my sanctuary now. I just hope the worshippers won’t shun me for my insolence the next time I see them.”

"Not to worry, my little darling," Papa assured me, approaching my bedside again. "They will be put in their proper place. Once you join us, they will fall in love with you, just as I already have. It will take some time, but the wait will be worth it."

He then kissed my cheek and tucked me in like I was a little girl getting ready for bed. My act worked. He _loved_ me now. Sickly, tainted love, and if I didn't try to tame the beast, he'd completely take over me and use me for his own desires. But to survive, I needed to lose myself in ways I never imagined, both mentally and physically, all for Papa and the Ghouls and my increasingly futile future.


	12. Jigolo Har Meggido

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosalie requests Omega’s assistance. Smut!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing smut is not my forte, so sorry if it sounds terrible in this chapter.

The moment I heard the door shut was the moment when the goosebumps prickling on my skin evaporated, finally at peace in my solitude. I rolled over on my side and gazed up at the cracks in the ceiling, running a hand through my oily hair. I really needed a soak in the bath, but being essentially a prisoner, did I have the right to even take a bath here? After all, I didn't want to run into anybody, unless I wanted to potentially get assaulted at celebration again. Now would be the only time where I could recharge and get my mind off of things, at least for a few dreadful hours. Who knew how long it'd be before someone came barging in here, demanding for something I felt I wasn't ready to give.

“ _Hej_."

Speak of the devil.

"Shit!"

I shot my head up. A Nameless Ghoul sat at the foot of my bed, his blue eyes scanning over the thick rings he wore on each hand.

"Sorry," Omega said, a bit startled by my fright. "The door was unlocked so I came to see if you were doing any better."

“Shouldn’t you be at celebration?” I asked uneasily.

“I don't like going to them anymore. I’ve had my time of fucking girls and eating the same food. Raw meat from random animals we find in the woods gets old after a while, you know.”

“Really, raw meat? Isn’t that unsanitary?” I shuddered at the thought. 

“Remember, we’re Ghouls, more monster than human. We’re able to digest raw meat and not have it affect us. That’s not the reason why I decided to skip celebration, though. I came here because I wanted to be with you. I wanted to make sure you were okay after all that Papa and my brothers did to you, which was nothing short of acceptable, by the way."

"Do you want me to...?" My heart fluttered as my fingertips brushed against the silver buttons on Omega's cassock. For some reason, I oddly wanted to do nothing more than rip off his cassock and roam my hands down his bare chest, kissing the flesh only I would be able to see as his loyal courtesan...

"No, not yet." Omega lightly pushed my hand away. "All the other Ghouls tend to act on impulse rather than reason, but I make sure to watch myself. As for Papa?" He sighed. "He's got his special tastes in women. Last night at celebration he was going on about how he thinks you're the perfect image of innocence. 'Just wait until she becomes corrupted and tempted by sin,' he said. 'Then she won't be much of an angel anymore.'"

"So more of the cheese?" I remarked.

Omega chuckled heartily, a reassuring sign. "I'm glad I'm not the only one who thinks he gets out of hand with the poetry. Keep this between you and me, but I think Jigolo Har Megiddo is a pathetic attempt of a booty call."

"You mean the song where he overdoes the sexual innuendos?"

"That's the one!"

"You're so right!" For once, I finally had something to laugh at, but perhaps laughing too hard wasn't a good thing to do when half of your body had been whipped and the scars were healing. "Oh, shit... I hate that it hurts so much."

"Here, let me help you."

Omega helped me lay down on my back, his hands gently taking me by my bandaged shoulders. The strange urges of attraction I had for him freshly lingered in my head. He was trying to make me feel comfortable in a place that was my glorified prison cell. Maybe he was indeed a good guy after all, and this was a lesson in looking past one's appearance and affiliation. I could very well see Omega becoming an ally of mine, but he was a Nameless Ghoul, someone of high authority within this Church. He was most likely busy in the times when there weren't rituals. He had songs to rehearse, rituals to help plan...

But I'm the Nameless Ghouls' courtesan now. When they want sex, I had to give them what they desired. It pained me to think I'd never know their faces or real names, any information about their past lives at all. I didn't even know who Omega might've been in the past - he could've been an unknown Swedish musician for all I knew. So why was this anonymous man, this anonymous creature, turning me on so much?

I've never had any strange fetishes before. I've heard about people who were stimulated by simply wearing a leather suit or high heels, but never about someone who wore a mask. Taboo, somewhat, so what was wrong with fucking a man who hid his face and touted himself as a demon? I only had his kind personality to judge Omega by, so basically, he had become my own dark fantasy.

I wondered what he'd feel like inside of me, how his lips felt against mine. Did monsters show passion as humans did? It wasn't necessarily my mission to find out the erotic secrets of a Nameless Ghoul, but the more time I spent with Omega, the more I wanted to discover them.

"Can I ask you something, Omega?" My voice went small and timid, like a young child's. "I'm warning you now, it's a little weird."

"As long as it doesn't involve revealing parts of my confidentiality agreement, I'm all ears."

The sharp pain of regret stabbed through my heart. I thought of Damien sitting in our bedroom, burying his face in my silk nightgown while Snowball wandered around, waiting for me to come home. His smooth voice rattled in my ears, saying my name over and over. I loved my boyfriend without a doubt, but who knew when I'd be let free? I'd been here for barely even two days and already the Church of Ghost had transformed me into someone with only sexual activities on their mind.

"I'm your courtesan, right?" That sounded very harsh.

"Uh, yeah?" Omega's eyes glanced down at his hands.

"This is going to sound really, really awkward, but..." I lowered my voice to a whisper. "I'm still a virgin. I've got zilch as to how I'm going to please you guys. And since you're the only person that's been nice to me since I came here, maybe you can show me...?"

Omega inhaled sharply, pondering over the question for a minute or two. Then, slowly, he lowered his head so that his face, or rather his mask, was mere inches away from my face, forcing me to stare right into his eyes to confirm my decision of starting my new career as a courtesan.

"Are you sure?"

No, I wasn't sure. No matter how much I didn't want to have sex with a stranger, I was required by the Church to fulfill the tasks I was given. How could this even be right? Somewhere down the line, I would've thought of the Church of Ghost as being kind and welcoming, even if they were still hell-bent on their Satan worship. Maybe with a change of authority came new laws the worshippers had to follow... new laws they didn't consent to.

Back to Omega. After brief hesitance, I nodded. May God have mercy on my soul.

Omega gently took me into his arms, his chest resting against mine. A fire lit up in my belly as I ached more for his touch, my greedy fingers stroking the velvety fabric of his hood, as if to caress the face that wasn't quite there. He lifted up his mask ever so slightly, pausing as our lips were barely touching, inches away. We were breathing each other's air; his was scented of sandalwood and a hint of spice, mine... well, dry blood and aloe vera. I didn't smell very romantic, but nevertheless, Omega's lips brushed over mine, flicking his tongue over my bottom lip.

My head fell back on the pillow as I savored the sensation of his hands roaming over my body, feeling up the flesh that was his for the time being. He kissed me everywhere, even kissing my bandages as if I were scar-free, and as he did, he shoved a hand between my legs, prying them open, revealing to him the fleshy pink nub growing warm and wet.

I scrambled in unbuttoning Omega's cassock, throwing the heavy black coat and sash away from us once it became loose. Somehow, his hood was separate from the cassock, still tight against his head. Aside from the ankle-length black socks, his Grucifix necklace, and boxers that failed to conceal his thickening erection, he was all but nude. Thankfully, his upper half appeared mostly human despite him claiming to be a demon, aside from his unnaturally pale skin and graying veins. 

Omega impatiently twitched as I looked back up at him, unsure of what to do next. It humored me how this kind-hearted Ghoul became so mad with lust. He was the first Ghoul I'd be servicing, and I was comfortable to say that I indeed wanted him, so much that at any minute I'd be more than willing to do as he asked without so much of a second thought.

"Are you sure about this, Rosalie?" Omega asked again, huskily.

"I fucking want you."

Omega lifted up his mask again and buried his lips into my neck, gently nibbling on delicate flesh, but not hard enough to make marks. I wouldn't want to go around the Church with hickey marks all over me. He raked his nails against my ribs and thighs with one hand, using the other to squeeze a breast, running the pad of his thumb along my pert nipple. A gasp of surprise passed through my lips as I felt my cheeks flush and then burn red. He kept his hand firmly planted on my breast while the other went down for my clit, burying his fingers in pubic curls.

"Ah..." I gave a little sigh, shuddering.

"Shh..."

Omega's thumb massaged my clit, rubbing in small circles. He then slid a finger into my entrance, and then another, gently stroking my inner walls, all while I felt myself going limp underneath him. Tears stung in my eyes at the sudden, burning feeling that encompassed me, but even through my pain I realized that this is what pleasure was like, even if it did hurt at first. I was stunned, for the lack of a better word, that my initial hesitance all came down to this. And I didn't quite mean that literally.

All of a sudden, Omega quickly slid his fingers out of me, almost like he was recoiling away. My heart dropped when I saw his fingers stained with blood. _Virgin's blood._

"Oh, no!" I said shakily. "I'm so sorry! I... uh... it was an accident—"

"No, don't apologize!" Omega chuckled, wiping his hand with another handkerchief from his cassock. "A virgin's first time is never perfect. Trust me, this usually happens. Nothing to fear."

"Oh." I giggled. "Well, that's good. Now that you've had your fun, let me have some of mine, too."

"And what will you bestow upon me?" Omega asked cockily.

"First of all, none of that Shakespeare shit. Second..."

I roamed all over Omega's body, kissing his soft shoulder blades and chest. He was getting turned on by this, quietly moaning as my fingers grabbed hold of the waistband of his boxers. Trying to conceal my nervousness, I dragged his boxers down to his feet, revealing his throbbing erection. I smiled - this should prove my worth as a budding courtesan.

I brought Omega’s cock in my hands and began to stroke him, letting my hands get used to his length. My lips went slick as I took him inside my mouth and swirled my tongue over his shaft, giving him my shoddy attempt at a blowjob, with only my memories of late-night cable soft-core serving as reference.

"Oh, _skit..._ " Omega gasped underneath his breath. "I... wasn't expecting this."

I glanced up at him. I wasn't sure what sparked him - maybe it was how my eyes glittered in the moonlight coming from the window behind us - to ejaculate right in my mouth. His cum was hot and salty in my mouth, and my gag reflex made me struggle to swallow it down.

Omega noticed my persistence and chuckled. "Okay, you're going to need some work with that."

"Sorry I'm not perfect," I reminded him dryly, the last of his cum dripping down my throat. "First timer, remember?"

"Yes, yes, I know. I'll... uh... put a note in to the Sisters that they should start you off with that."

"You're not going to tell them we fucked, right?"

"Not at all. They were asking for recommendations and I didn't have a good one prepared. My brothers went extreme with theirs. I don't think you want to know what they want out of you."

"Repeats of the cellar?"

Omega shook his head. "A bit more benign, but still rather sadistic. I'll spare you the gory details."

"Please do."

Omega stood on his knees between my open legs and placed his hands on my hips, but remained frozen in place, almost like he was scared to fuck me after our awkward foreplay.

"Omega, are you okay?" I leaned up. "What's wrong?"

"It's the initiation ceremony. He wants you to be pure for it to go right."

I scoffed. "Fuck that. Besides, how would Papa know whether I'm pure or not?”

"You've got a point." Omega's eyes expressed he was worried for my well-being, but they were also glassed over with lust. "Are you sure you want to do this, Rosalie?"

"I'm ready." I smiled. "Go ahead."

“This’ll only hurt for a little bit. Just… try not to scream, all right?”

"I'll try not to."

I held my breath when I felt his tip graze against my entrance, and bit down on my lip as Omega slowly started sheathing himself inside of me, his cock stretching me open. I let out a loud yelp from the sudden impact, but Omega covered my mouth with his hand, ring against teeth. Inside me, he felt so good, my hips slamming against his as I yearned for more, despite the foreign pain lingering in the lower half of my body. He whispered reassurances in my ear, caressing my hair as he sped up his thrusts. The fire in me now roared vividly of empowerment, and for once, I wasn't the reclusive, awkward woman who had sex dreams that wouldn't come true.

"Oh, God... fuck... Omega!" I squirmed as Omega pulsed inside of me and the fire now pooled lower in my abdomen. "I... I think I might..."

Omega's eyes locked with mine. "Release for me."

I rolled my head back as a shock wave coursed right through me, my vision becoming a burst of white light. This proved that pleasure was indeed a beautiful, empowering thing, something that made you feel like the strongest person you wished to be.

Happy tears flooded from my eyes as I threw my arms over my Nameless Ghoul, nuzzling his neck as his thrusts began to slow down. I then started to shiver in Omega's embrace, the power from the orgasm weakening me. He slowly pulled himself out of me and grabbed onto my waist, bringing me close to him. It was complete. My innocence was stolen by a man whose face and identity I'd never know, but at the same time, I’d gained a friend in the process.

“So, that’s what sex is like…” I murmured, my head falling tiredly on Omega's shoulder. “That was absolutely… amazing. Thank you, Omega.”

“Any time,” Omega replied. “You asked, and I gave. You did beautifully.”

“Oh, uh…” My cheeks went warm again. “Thanks, I guess.”

“We had a private celebration!” He chuckled cheekily, his eyes squinting. It was a sign that he was smiling behind his mask, proud that he was the one to defile the virginal courtesan, and in secret nonetheless. “That’s what it’s normally like, but with more people watching you.”

“I wouldn’t be able to handle it,” I said nervously, the fears of my initiation ceremony resurfacing.

“You just have to stare in the eyes of your chosen Ghoul and focus only on them. It’s the best method of trying to block out everyone. You get used to it. The best thing is to trust your instincts, and don’t worry about what the worshippers below you think. They were all virgins too once.”

Omega rose from the bed and retrieved his cassock and sash. He was going to leave, stranding me in this room by myself again. _I wanted him._ So far, he’s the only one to have shown me kindness, and I’d really like to get to know him better. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to have a Ghoul in my bed tonight.

“Omega, don’t leave!” I exclaimed. “I… uh…” The words wouldn’t come out.

“Would you like me to sleep with you tonight, Rosalie?” Omega turned to face the bed as he tied his sash around his waist. “Is that what you’re trying to ask me?”

Omega had definitely won my trust.  He showed me that he wasn’t as deranged or emotionless like the other Ghouls. He comforted me in the areas where I needed it most, and now, I think he wanted to be my friend. Finally, a friend to help me survive through the pain and hardships of being involved with the Church of Ghost!

“Of course you can,” I replied. “But, if you’re going to sleep with me, I need to ask you one thing so I know you aren’t a creep. I can tell the others are going to want nothing but sex from me, but you… you actually got to know me a little first. So, uh… can we be friends?”

“You mean friends with benefits?”

“I mean like, actual friends. We can talk to each other and stuff, you know?”

“Then in that case, sure. If Papa’s going to continue to attempt making your life a living hell here, I might as well help you through it.”

I adjusted the blankets and Omega got into bed. We both sank into the cold, satin sheets, my nude body prickling in goosebumps again. Omega wrapped his huge arms around me, bringing me against his chest. Is this was love felt like? Sure, I've had my vanilla, intimate moments with Damien, but they were never as powerful as this. With someone like Omega cuddling you right after a steamy round of sex, you knew that you'd be protected and cared for in addition to being ravished.

Was I actually falling in love with him? I wanted to deny it, since I only knew Omega for about an hour total (not including the concert and the ritual), but no matter how hard I tried, he didn't leave my mind. Something about the way he acted around me told me he would watch my back as I tried to survive among Papa and the other Ghouls. So far, he was the only one to truly make me feel welcome, as all the other Ghouls seemed to be angry and irritated by my presence. Hell, they wanted to see me in agony, not joy. Maybe they were the real monsters, robbed of their ability to see someone for who they truly were. Omega wasn't a monster, just somebody with an outlandish way of expressing himself.

But perhaps I was wrong. As I held his hand in my own, my adrenaline raced, realizing that his touch was as cold and chilling as death.


	13. Valley of the Dolls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosalie receives a visit from the Church’s Sisters of Sin, Alessa and Verona, who give her a lesson on how to please her future clientele.

The next morning, I woke up alone.

Omega left my bed, off to sneak into the darkness of his bedchamber before tonight's ritual. The only reminder of our love-making was a small bloodstain on the blankets, which blended in with the red satin. You couldn't see it unless you were specifically looking for it.

I hoped to see Omega later, I thought as I eyed the alarm clock. 11:31 am, much earlier than yesterday. There was no loud buzzing, no hollering from down the hall. Just nothing but eerie, quiet stillness, like yesterday.

I rose and stumbled over to my dresser to find something to wear. Most of my new wardrobe was similar, black and low-cut, to show the Ghouls the goods. I found a black silk dress cut at my thigh and a black kimono to cover my shoulders. At least I wouldn't have to walk around the Church nude and bandaged like the Mummy. I tied my hair into a loose bun and approached the door to finally head off to that nice bath. Perhaps a soak would relieve me of the pain of my wounds.

There was no way out.

Two women blocked my way out of the room. The smiles plastered on their faces told me they weren't going to budge. I instantly recognized them as Papa's chosen harem girls from the ritual, the escorts that laughed at me in Treasure Island, and most importantly, the nuns that almost killed Damien. These two were Papa's favored girls, the ones he always took out for a special treat. I would have to respect them just as much as I had to respect Papa and the Ghouls. One slip and I'd be in the cellar, hanging and bleeding again.

"Hello, Rosalina." The first girl to speak had raven hair, an elaborate tattoo sleeve of roses that cascaded down her left arm, and thick curves that the red bodycon dress she wore complemented. In other words, a look to die for, and the sultry voice she spoke with made her even more desirable. "I am Sister Verona, the finest of Papa's whores."

"No, I am!" Verona's companion had that valley girl voice I remembered hearing in the tour bus. Her hair was scarlet and wavy, but no tattoos seemed to grace her olive skin. "I'm Sister Alessa, the other whore. We're sluts of the Church who fuck for nothing but greatness!"

"Which is what we're here to teach you today," Verona continued, tracing her red-manicured finger along the ridges of my bedpost. "You see, Alessa and I are the highest devotees of the Church. That means Papa and the Ghouls trust us more than anyone else here. In a way, they're the only reason why we're still living. We both came here like you did, thinking we'd be redeemed somehow."

"But then," Alessa continued, as if this were a sales pitch and not information on what I had to do to survive, "when we indulged in celebration and awakened the beasts within us, we became who we are today! We don't just mill around and fuck, though, if that's what you're thinking. We attend Brother Air's sermons and we're learning about the occult. Papa didn't want his knowledge to go to waste, I guess!"

"We believe what they believe," Verona added, "and through that, we have earned their trust fully. The Nameless Ghouls are very hard people to please."

"And you better watch your back," Alessa warned, "because Papa's ours. We heard you've been trying to get on his good side. Do you wanna know how hard that is? You can't win his trust so easily."

"Look, I sacrificed my own life so my boyfriend can be safe," I tried to reason with the Sisters. From what it seemed, they were the kind to intimidate and stun future devotees into silence and submission. "If I'm going to be stuck here, I may as well start learning from the pros. I'll admit, I'm not that experienced, but if having sex with the Ghouls is the only way to save my ass, then I'm going to need to learn how to please them."

Alessa and Verona exchanged amused looks. They probably never taught someone who was fully aware of what she was getting herself into.

"First off, it doesn't matter if you have experience or not," Verona then said. "Remember, you're their courtesan now, so you have to give them everything they desire. You aren't like us. The Ghouls only come to us on special occasions, but you? You're all theirs now. So I hope you're ready, because we're starting our first lesson right now."

"I guess we should get started, then," I said with a nervous laugh in my voice.

"All right, then," Alessa replied snidely, mimicking my voice. "Sounds like someone's ready to get some hardcore action from the Sisters of Sin! Today's lesson is all about the good old lick and suck. Tip number one is that the Ghouls like to be teased. It turns them on, gets them excited! So first, I recommend talking dirty with them. Be like..." She shifted her voice into a tinny wail. "'Oh, I need to be fucked so hard right now!'"

“No, that's too raunchy,” Verona said discouragingly. "They like when the passion is intense, so be like…” She leaned in next to my shoulder, her lips briefly brushing my neck. “’I need you so badly. I’m vulnerable without your touch. Be sentimental with your words, not like you’re some roadie looking for a quick screw."

"Then you start the dirty work," Alessa instructed. "They like a good show, so lay them down and start showing them the goods! Here, I'll be the Nameless Ghoul, and you'll be the courtesan. We'll guide you through it!"

Alessa pushed aside the satin blankets and situated herself on my bed. Her brown eyes panned me up and down, checking out my figure. Awkwardly, I wrapped myself in my kimono, blushing.

“Ask the Nameless Ghoul what he wants,” Verona crooned in my ear.

“Um… how do you want it?” I asked awkwardly. Verona shook her head in disapproval. “I mean, how would you like your pleasure today?”

“Hard and naughty!” Alessa answered in a low, gruff voice.

I gave Verona a blank look.

"Do you want me to show you how it's done, Rosalina?"

"I, uh... sure."

Verona lifted herself up on the bed, crawling on her hands and knees toward her fellow Sister. She positioned herself in between Alessa's open legs and bent down to stroke Alessa's pale cheek with her fingertips, trailing them down her waist and down to the hem of Alessa's dress. Innocent enough, I thought, but Verona's graceful movements turned primal as she snatched off her Sister's dress and buried her face into her cleavage, taking each lace-covered breast in her hands to kiss the small slivers of exposed flesh.

"Verona, you're so fucking good at this..." Alessa sighed, squirming underneath her Sister. "Makes me wonder how the gentile girl's gonna do me..."

Verona ripped off Alessa's bra and kneaded her breasts together, pressing her thumbs deep into her nipples. Alessa squeaked in pleasure, giggling as her pink lips met Verona's, kissing them with such girlish delight. Verona's tongue swirled around Alessa's as she continued feeling her fellow Sister up, her hands sliding down to her waist and thighs before stopping at the waistband of her panties. Verona slipped a precocious hand inside and started rubbing at Alessa's clit, going slow and in circular motions, as far as I could tell.

"Mm-mm!" Alessa moaned against Verona's lips. "Fuck, Verona! Give me more, give me more!"

"With pleasure, your unholiness," Verona said obediently, ripping off Alessa's panties with nothing but her teeth. I could only watch all of this unfold with stunned eyes. I needed to take in this over-the-top demonstration so I knew what to do when the time rolled around for me to pleasure the Ghouls. Verona and Alessa were agile and strutted around with confidence, while I was the willowy woman whose self-esteem was more minuscule, if anything. How would be able to be as passionate and coquettish as a Sister of Sin?

Verona parted Alessa's legs wider, revealing a neatly trimmed garden of dark curls and the pink, cherished spot in between her legs. Alessa arched her back, her throat tightening as she let out a cry of delight. She took in the moment of pleasure as if she were someone who had never even been fucked before, losing herself in ecstasy. 

"Jesus," I muttered to myself, nearly burying my face in my hands. As if this couldn't get any more awkward enough...

"Oh, Rosalina! You still there?”

I jumped back to attention as Alessa said my name.

"Present as I'll ever be," I remarked.

"Okay, so, they like a little..." Alessa stopped for yet another screech not unlike a hyena's as Verona's fingers rubbed at her pink clit. "Mouth action before the penetration. It gets them excited, turns them on! You got to show them everything you're capable of." She brought out her foot and playfully kicked Verona away from her. "Verona, get off of me and let Rosalina try."

"Of course, dearest Sister."

Verona helped me up onto the bed and guided me to Alessa's open legs. I had never tried fucking a girl before, let alone lick them like Verona had done, so I was actually starting to get a little nervous. My overly conservative family had told me that relationships not approved by God, and especially any type other than heterosexual, were sin. But I was in the Church of Ghost now. Sin _was_  virtue. And besides, what's so bad about fucking someone who's the same gender as you, anyway?

I moved my head closer to Alessa's legs and brought my lips to her, kissing her inner thighs and giving them light nibbles. The tip of my tongue briefly grazed against Alessa's clit, lapping up her sweet, hot juices. Not too bad so far, as Alessa moaned obscenities under her breath, easing away my fears. Lust filled my mind, curiosity to explore this Sister empowered by sin taking over my mind.

Daring myself to go even further, I slid an awkward, solitary finger inside her, then another. I went in and out, trying to stimulate her even more somehow, but even as lust controlled my every move, I wasn't really sure what I was trying to accomplish.

"Aa-ahh!"

One of my fngers happened to stroke her inner walls. Taking Alessa's cry in precaution, I was quick to slide out, reeling in embarrassment. Maybe that was supposed to happen. I wasn't quite sure. Why did I have to come off as so naive in front of these two?

"She only climaxed, Rosalina." Verona chucked reassuringly as she put her hand on my shoulder. "That means you've done your job well."

"I... I did?" I sighed in relief. "I was worried for a minute there."

"You were a natural!" Alessa gasped in bliss. "It's like you've done this before!"

“She’s probably had some wet dreams she won’t confess to, Sister,” Verona said with an amused laugh.

“Well, it _was_ my first ever try," I clarified. "I'll admit, that was pretty fun."

I wiped my lips against the back of my hand and crawled off the bed, taking the bottle of strawberry scented sanitizer Verona offered me. Amazement still remained stuck on Alessa's face, even as she pulled back her scarlet tresses of hair and got dressed. These two Sisters of Sin were so obsessed with anything voyeuristic that I had easily manipulated them into being a little nicer to me. Manipulation - it's what I'd have to use to survive. 

“You did very well, Rosalina, but this is only the first lesson,” Verona reminded me when I handed her back the hand sanitizer. “There’s still a lot more we need to teach you.”

“What’s going to be my next lesson, though?” I asked curiously.

“With soon time, my child,” Alessa replied, using her Nameless Ghoul voice again. “But you know what we should end this with? A celebratory pillow fight orgy!”

The Sisters grabbed the pillows off my bed and started to playfully hit each other with them so aggressively that Verona actually lost her balance and fell right on top of the bed. In addition to serving as the classiest courtesans of the Church, competitive pillow-fighting seemed to be the Sisters' forte as well.

A snowfall of white feathers gently plummeted to the ground as the Sisters kissed each other once more, entwining themselves in their embrace. I wasn't sure of what exactly Verona and Alessa's relationship was - close friends, lovers maybe? Nothing about their kiss seemed forced. But in the Church of Ghost, did true love even exist? Was this just another masquerade?

“Join in, Rosalina!” 

My turn to play. Hesitantly, I took the last pillow remaining and slammed it against Verona's back, hard. Her body froze as she gasped out, but she wasn't quick to admit defeat, as she turned over, took her pillow, and slammed it over my head in revenge.

I stumbled a bit but got back my balance pretty fast. Alessa soon joined in amidst light kisses and tickles, even softly pressing her lips against mine for a quick kiss. I'll admit, this wasn't necessarily bad. Just as long as I had the Sisters on my side, perhaps I could survive here, stranded in a mansion in the middle of nowhere, Nevada with six Satanic musicians. Maybe they could even help me escape without repercussions...

"Ahem."

"Brother Earth!"

Lo and behold, we were startled from our sapphic joy. Earth stood with his back leaning against the wall, his blue eyes watching us eerily. Alessa and Verona bounced back to their feet and bowed to the Ghoul, gesturing for me to do the same. Had he been here the whole time? My body shivered at the thought. He may have been spectator to the things I learned.

“Hey there, sexy drummer man,” Verona purred, quick to transform back into the husky seductress I first met. “Are you here for Rosalina’s services? I know Papa said to wait until the ceremony, but we've just taught her a great deal on—“

“Papa needs you two,” Earth said, his accented voice sending shivers through my body. “He told you to be quick with the girl and then come to him for your..." He took a breath, holding back a very visible cringe. "Your special threesome private time.”

“Yes!” Alessa exclaimed, clearly excited by whatever ‘special threesome private time’ was. She looked at Verona with a bright glimmer in her brown eyes. “We better go. I’ve been waiting for another threesome with Papa for too long now!"

The Sisters bounced out of my room as Earth took a step toward me, coming in too close for comfort. His thickening bulge rested against my thigh, and rather than freaking out and recoiling back, I let him stay. How the hell would I satisfy this Ghoul? I kept three things in mind - manipulation, perkiness, haughtiness. By combining my Sisters' personalities with my own, I'd form an identity for myself around here.

I just hope it would keep me alive.


	14. Down to Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Earth Ghoul comes to tell Rosalie some secrets of the Church of Ghost.

Earth's blue eyes enthralled me, calming my nerves as fear that I wouldn't please him crept in my head. I stayed silent for a moment, observing how he stood perfectly still, his only movement being his clipped, steady breathing. The feeling of being watched by a creature clad entirely in black wasn't necessarily pleasant, but something reassured me that it wouldn't be this way for too long. Who knew, maybe he'd be kind like Omega. Once our revelry began, all hell would break loose.

"So, they call you the Earth Ghoul?"

He didn't reply, merely keeping still.

"My Sisters have taught me something new today," I added with a smile. "I'd like to demonstrate what I've learned, if you don't mind."

My eager fingertips trailed down Earth's chest, sliding past the brass buttons on his cassock.

"No." Earth took my wrist in his hand. "I'm not here for _that_. Papa's orders were to keep you pure for the ceremony, and I will not defy his orders."

"Oh." What a relief. "I thought I'd be starting my duties right away."

"I'm here to give you some advice I recommend you start following now while you're still unaccustomed to how things work around here. I don't want to see you step out of line."

"Like what?" I sat down on my bed. "That if I fuck you it'll bring me great success? Because let me tell you, that's just disgusting."

"Don't listen to a word that old man says," Earth said, shaking his head. "He seems to forget what we try to teach every newcomer. Our goal is to allow the oppressed to revel in their sins, that it's not a bad thing to do. We're here to give them a distraction from how fucked up the world is."

"Really?" I raised an eyebrow. "I would've believed all that before I nearly got killed!"

"Look, no one wants to see you down in the cellar again." Earth took a seat next to me. "Especially me. You might continue to deny it, but with our guidance you can learn how to embrace your darker side."

"I don't have a dark side," I said quickly. For Christ's sake, I'm twenty-four and just lost my virginity after being stuck with a prudish family for what felt like an eternity. "I mean... but I do want to learn."

"And you are. I'll admit, what you did with Sister Alessa made me get a hard on."

My cheeks burned in embarrassment. So he _was_ watching, great. 

"That was nothing," I mumbled. "I wouldn't do that ever again."

"And apparently," Earth continued, "you were really good with Omega as well."

"W-what?" My heart dropped to my stomach. 

"I know what you did with my brother, Rosalina. All of us do. We Ghouls have our ways of finding out each other's secrets. Nothing can remain hidden in this Church forever."

"W-when did he tell you?" I whispered, holding back a cry.

"He told me at confessional. We have a period of time where we tell each other what we've done and what we'll do to further please Papa and Mammon. Water fucked the servant girl, Air finally got down the last step of Kamasutra... and Omega said he fucked the courtesan and liked what he got."

Tears streamed down my face. "B-but he said he wouldn't—!"

"If it helps, I should add he turned up drunk to confessional," Earth said with a bit of guilt. "My brother frequently lets the wrong things slip at the wrong time, and his drinking habits only add on to that. But do you understand what I'm trying to tell you? If you let the wrong secret out, your cover can instantly be blown. It's very easy to get tricked here, Rosalina. You need to watch your back. I understand that you're new and these things do take time to get used to."

"Then why did you come here?" I asked tearfully. "You could've left me in the dust like everyone else."

"I had to warn you somehow. I sensed potential in you the moment you sacrificed your life for your boyfriend. You showed me that you'd do anything to survive, and I don't want to see that go to waste. I even warned my brothers that if your secret got out, I'd cut them. Papa wanted you totally clean and pure for the ceremony, the sick fuck he is."

I couldn't help but chuckle. "At least you get it too."

Earth placed his hand on my shoulder and kept it there for a while. "Not a lot of people here seem to get it. That's the price you have to pay when you pledge your allegiance to the Devil. Be careful, Rosalina. That's all I can tell you."

"I... thank you, Earth," I said meekly. I had earned the trust of another Ghoul, but with it came the deception from another. Why would Omega tell his brethren about our secret love-making? Everyone had to play their game against their foes, dance their waltz of treachery. I had always gotten what I wanted in the past, but now I needed to earn what I desired most. Isn't this what I wanted, to lose myself in the role I never got to play: the seductress, the one who played around to find her true love? 

Earth left the bedroom, leaving me alone again - only for another person to knock on the door. I opened the door to see just who I thought I'd see - another Nameless Ghoul, his eyes brown and wide behind his mask. Only one Nameless Ghoul had eyes so dark - Air.

I glanced down at the white bundle in Air's veiny hands. "Is that for me?" 

Air stroked the soft fabric with his spindly pianist fingers, all while staring at me, never blinking. Silently, he threw the bundle at my chest and slammed the door in my face.

"Asshole."

I sat down on my bed and unfolded the white bundle. A velvet white dress with lace sleeves fell across my lap, the long, flowing skirt piling just atop my feet. White is commonly the color of purity, innocence. Dressing me in white was a clever move on Papa's part, for once I was defiled publicly, the dress would serve as a remnant of what had been robbed from me.

A red ribbon tied like a leash fell from my lap, hitting the floor. I brought it close to my eyes, trying to figure out the meaning behind the ribbon too. A symbolic slit throat, maybe, but that might be cutting it close. I didn't want to be like Samuel Berkeley, searching for symbolism in the broadest of places.

Shrugging the odd ribbon off, I put on the dress, testing it for size. The skirt trailed behind me like the train of a wedding dress, while the bodice lifted up my breasts a bit, exposing my shoulders and the little dove tattoo on my backbone. I unloosened my hair from the bun I wore and let my locks fall down to my shoulders, a blonde mess that made me look free-spirited, like a wild woman of the woods. I was the runaway brought to the sanctuary for protection, but something felt missing.

Conveniently, I found a small, black eye pencil laying on my dresser. Perhaps one of the Sisters left it behind. After I ran it over both my eyelids and underneath my eyes, I gazed into the mirror, trying to recognize the girl I once was - spunky yet naive, despite being a twenty-four year old woman. Instead, some kind of ghostly, alluring beauty stood before me, her blue eyes wandering around the room in the pursuit of something better. This is what I wanted, to embrace the darker side of me. In the Church of Ghost, I could set it free. I needed to accept this Church, what I vowed I’d do when I talked to Papa last night. I have to be braver in front of him and the Ghouls, to win their trust.

Although the Church of Ghost imprisoned me, this place may become the source of my liberation.


	15. Lost in the Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosalie finds out some secrets, and a Special Ghoul returns with a gift.

The initiation ceremony wasn't until much later. Seeing as it was only 1:08 pm, I figured maybe I should do some exploring, while Papa and the Ghouls were distracted with whatever afternoon duties they needed to attend to. This mansion was huge - I've most likely only seen a fraction of the different rooms. The abbey was like Bluebeard's castle, filled with dozens of room stocked with treasures. Knowing Papa, and the secretive nature of the Church in general, there were probably rooms upon rooms hiding away dark secrets. BDSM gear? Sex toys? Possibly even a corpse? After all, if I'm the Church's courtesan, I should have at the freedom to at least walk around.

I donned my red cloak and slowly wandered out of my bedroom, gingerly traversing down to the atrium. Imagine my surprise when I nearly stumbled across Papa, the Ghouls, and the Sisters gathered at the altar bed, their backs thankfully turned to me. Papa and the Sisters were dressed in their ritual finery - Papa in his black and green chasuble and miter, the Sisters in their nuns' wimples and robes.

Quickly, before any of the clergy saw me, I scurried over to a hiding spot behind the staircase to the dais. Just me at my finest, being a reporter who went to all lengths to discover the truth. If the truth wasn't able to be delivered to me personally, I would have to sneak my way in and find out myself. That was my task to start off with, after all.

"Papa, if I may ask, why are you so infatuated with this Rosalina chick?" Verona asked inquisitively.

“Her innocence fascinates me,” Papa answered. “I have never seen a girl so pure like her before. She is an angel searching for corruption. She has a beast within her that is waiting to be tamed. I have heard her sing of it myself! She sought for our information, but I know of her true purpose. In a way, she has come to us willingly. She has come to _me_ willingly, and none of you see that!”

“She’s just another virgin,” Alessa said with a scoff. “Why can’t you just let her do the whole virgin process and let her go?”

“She is a virgin with the power of creation!” Papa shouted, banging his fist down on the pulpit. “Ever since I’ve been inducted into this Church, I have foretold that a woman pure of heart and soul will bear the child of our Infernal Majesty, a woman so pure that she knows barely anything of the world’s cruel, dark ways. Once that magazine charlatan informed us about Rosalie Hammond, I believed she would be the one to bestow our task upon."

“So, she is the Prime Mover, then,” Alpha suggested.

“Why, yes." Papa sauntered toward his Ghouls with a grin on his painted face. "I have sung so long about the Prime Mover, and now, she has been delivered to us. But first, she will need to _become_ one of us. Tonight is her initiation into our Church, and I know you Ghouls are just as eager as I am for it. You each get a go with your new courtesan, but I wouldn’t fuck her hard just yet. Besides, I have a little plan for our Rosalina.”

“What is it, Papa?” Verona asked a bit too excitedly. “Tell us!”

“Yeah, tell us,” I said mockingly under my breath.

“Our mission is to be involved with the birth of our Church's Antichrist, as per Sister Imperator. I have a little challenge for you Ghouls. This is your task, and yours alone. I am rather... dare I say, too old, and cannot perform the duty myself. Whoever gets the girl impregnated with Hell's heir shall receive gifts beyond measure. Trust me, once the plan is in place, we will not need Rosalina for too long. I know time will pass before I am sent to the crypt with my predecessor, that old decaying fucker, but it is best that we begin to make our plans now. It is what was requested of me to do while in this Church, and I will ensure that it happens."

I covered my mouth, stifling a gasp of fear. No coherent thoughts came to my mind except for pure horror. 

“That’s fucking ridiculous, Papa!” Alessa protested. “That’s like—“

“You best watch your tongue, Sister,” Verona intervened. “Papa’s not in the mood for your insolence.”

“So what do we need to do with the girl?” Water asked.

“She is your courtesan after all,” Papa said, “and I have a feeling she will submit to you easily! Rosalina is a fickle girl. She almost let me have my way with her earlier, but her spite saved her in the end. So quite honestly, I don’t care how you do it! Do with her whatever you please! She is yours now, as she came here only to save herself. Remind her where her proper place is in this Church.”

This band was sicker than I imagined. They were musically talented on stage, wailing out ghastly melodies and swaying beats, but offstage was another story. Little did I, or anyone for that matter, know that their lyrics were in fact the truth - they really did believe in these dark things I thought only the most evil of people believed in. What Papa had in store for me was surely a crime, wanting to corrupt me until I succumbed to his will. I practically weaved my own spiderweb, becoming so entangled that it was impossible to rip my way out.

"Omega!" Papa exclaimed, startling the Quintessence Ghoul to attention. "What do you think of my plan? Does it need, ah... any fine-tuning?"

"It's... it's a wonderful plan, Papa," Omega answered, straightening himself out against a colonnade. "The girl is just what we need to win Mammon's eternal praise."

“Excellent,” Papa remarked. “Sisters, notify the congregation and let them know a special event shall be taking place tonight. Tell them they need not worry showing up at Mandalay. And Ghouls, try to constrain yourselves... _please_."

The rest of the clergy left the atrium, Papa's hands resting atop the Sisters' backs as he led them out. Once everyone was gone, I emerged from my hiding spot and gazed out into the tinted glass windows, my eyes burning from the sunlight creeping its way into the atrium. I didn't know what to think except for that I was fucked - so, so fucked, if this would be my reality now, worrying about being brainwashed and forced to carry Papa's child. How was this even reality? How could these fucks get away with singing songs that occasionally got played on the radio and photo shoots and kidnapping innocent women to do their bidding? Why did they have to choose me, a simple person trying to do their job, not wanting to get into any trouble, only to find herself being led right in that direction?

"Just give me an answer, please!" I screamed to no one in particular, banging my fists against the altar bed until they hurt. "Get me out of here!"

The slow pitter-patter of footsteps crept up behind me. My body stiffened as I felt someone remove my hood and run their fingers through my hair. I didn't dare turn around. What if it was Papa, who stopped to hear my cries for help? What if it was Earth, who told me to remain secretive in this living nightmare of a place? Or what if it was even Omega, who felt remorse for drunkenly telling his brethren that he spent the night with me?

"Hey, you all right?"

Reluctantly, slowly, I turned to face whoever dared to interrupt my rare moment of solace. A Nameless Ghoul stood behind me the whole time, holding a dark red wine bottle and a clear chalice in his bare hands. His head was tilted to the side, as if he was worried about me, seeing as his eye holes were covered with black mesh and thus couldn't show emotion through his eyes.

" _You._ " I hadn't seen this specific, anonymous Ghoul since my arrival into the Church. "You're... _you're_ the Ghoul I interviewed, right?"

"I am." The barely-there Swedish accent gave him away. "I'm your, uh... _Special_ Ghoul, remember?"

"Then how come I haven't seen you around?"

"I am on staff for the clergy. I go out and do interviews on their behalf and I help manage the rituals. I'm terribly sorry I haven't been able to talk to you. My duties take up quite a lot of time."

"You could've at least told me that before I was kidnapped and brought to this place!" 

"Look, I'm really sorry for the misunderstanding!" Special's voice turned into an erratic, hushed stutter of a whisper. "I didn't know that my brothers had other plans for you. Normally they're okay with reporters coming to our rituals, but—"

"Then why am I being held hostage here, huh? Why am I not allowed to go home and tell my boss that I nearly got killed? How come I can't go and tell my boyfriend that this was all a big fucking PR joke? None of you fucks understand, do you? You can't go out and prostitute innocent people just because you think they're the 'Prime Mover' or whatever bullshit I just heard!"

"The... Prime Mover?" Special’s voice wavered in confusion.

"Don't play dumb with me, asshole. I heard everyone talking about me being some breeding slave. _I know_ you're involved somehow, so don't even think of trying to convince me otherwise. Look what they've done to me!" I held out my scarred arms to show Special my lashes. "Look, I'm not supposed to be here. All I want to do is go home and forget any of this happened. I'll tell Berkeley only what you've told me. I promise."

"I... I'm afraid I can't." Special lowered his head for a moment, lost in thought. "But... I think I might know a way out."

"You do? Well, there's the first actually useful thing you've done since I've met you."

"Papa has a chauffeur on staff. His name is Martin, and he drives Papa and the Sisters out to the Strip every once in a while. Perhaps I can tell Martin that you'd like to try and escape again. I heard your first attempt didn't go so well."

"No shit. I was just trying to get away and they wouldn't let me go!"

"I assure you, it won't be easy, but it can happen. I’m good friends with Martin and I can tell him everything that's going on here. He is not very fond of the Church himself. Perhaps you can make acquaintances with him."

"Are you sure this will work?"

"I'm positive. As long as we make this discreet, then you'll have absolutely nothing to worry about."

"Are you _sure_?" I had to keep on pressing him until I was assured that I would indeed be able to go home.

"I swear to Mammon."

My brows furrowed. "To Mammon, huh?"

"I mean, we are currently living in a Church that worships him as the only authority."

I nodded slowly. "I just want to be sure I'm not being tricked here."

"You can trust me, Rosalina. Out of all the liars and traitors in this Church, I'm the lone wolf that sticks to his guns, if you know what I mean."

I looked down at the bottle of wine Special held. "What's the wine for?"

"Oh, this?" Special flipped the bottle around in his hands, a cute little trick. "This is a celebratory gift that Papa wanted me to give you. He wants you to... uh... ease up a bit before tonight, so he's giving you one of the best wines from his collection. Ever heard of Rosso del Veronese?"

"I don't usually drink, and I doubt I'd know anything that Papa knows. The guy's a rather extravagant cad, isn't he?"

Special chuckled cheekily. "Well, it's pretty good for a starter, I suppose. Better than that Fireball shit you Americans seem to like. Here, take a little sniff."

I took the bottle from Special's hands and screwed off the top. A strong aroma that reminded me of ripe cherries and withered flowers instantly filled my nostrils, putting my mind a little more at ease. The wine itself was a dark red color, almost like blood... perhaps the blood of Christ, but perhaps with fermented grapes added in.

"It's not bad," I remarked. "I guess I'll have a little bit."

Special placed the chalice atop the altar bed and filled it up to the brim, completely ignoring the part where I said "a little bit." Little droplets of red spilled onto the altar bed, staining the freshly scrubbed wood. Looked like Cosima's work went to waste.

Seeing as I didn't want to intimidate the Ghoul who may be able to assist me in escaping for good, I kept quiet and took the chalice from his hands. Besides, if I wanted to endure whatever terrors Papa and the Ghouls had in store for my initiation ceremony, I needed alcohol in this desperate time of need.

I took a small sip. The wine had an intense taste, burning the inside of my throat so much that I thought my breathing would cut off. A tickle formed in the back of my throat - not the kind you usually get when your mouth starts to get used to the taste of alcohol, but a creeping, sharp sort of tickle that served as a warning sign that what you just ingested wasn't as clean as you thought.

My head then began to pound as my vision became blurry, nothing but a huge wash of reds and blacks. I grabbed onto the edge of the altar bed to steady myself, but I lost my balance, falling to my knees on the floor.

"Rosalina!" I heard Special rush to my side. His hands went underneath my knees, hoisting me up on top of the altar bed. "Oh, _skit_... please don't tell me Papa did something to the wine..."

"W-what are you doing, Special?" My voice sounded like a hoarse whisper.

"Just relax, Rosalina." His soft hand brushed away strands of hair that were caught in my face, and as he did, he stroked my forehead, almost in a sympathetic manner. His hand brushed past my cheek and traveled all the way down, past my stomach and to my thighs. Although my body was weakening, I was still of sound mind, fully aware that Special was certainly up to no good. 

My eyes fought the battle to remain open. "Right... I'll just... sleep."

I lost that battle a mere five seconds later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The wine Rosalie drinks is in fact Papastrello, the Ghost branded wine.


	16. Come Together, Together as a One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fearful of her initiation ceremony, Rosalie has a rather unusual nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for non-consensual sex and creepy, Black Mass-esque shit. If you've seen the music video for 'Year Zero' and the nightmare scene from 'Rosemary's Baby', you'll know what I'm talking about.

I arrived in a monochromatic room. Just red, no other color, as if a film of blood stained my eyes. Candlelight cast a faint glow over my new surroundings - many mirrors and tables, smooth-surfaced, in addition to candelabras and trinkets scattered about. Five women dressed in rather modest clothing sat on couches and loveseats, staring out into the distance, lost in thought. Perhaps they were waiting for someone.

My many reflections filled up the many mirrors. At once, the women's heads snapped up and turned to look at me, eerily in unison. Ear-to-ear smiles spread upon their faces.

"You're here!" Awe brightened up the face of one woman, young with dark, wide eyes and a cherubic face. A serpent earring coiled around her ear, perhaps in reference to the tale of Eve's temptation. "Papa said you are destined to be our Prime Mover!"

"W-what the hell is going on here?" I asked nervously.

"Hush, child." Another lady rose from her seat and approached me, staring at me with serious yet bright eyes. The eldest of the bunch, most likely, with her dour expression and coiffed gray hair. She wore an all black suit, making her appearance more masculine in comparison to her companions. "We must get this done as quickly as we can."

The other women followed their leader suit and ushered me over to one of the tables, long and vertical, similar to the tables that corpses are placed on. They gestured for me to lie down as they moved aside wine goblets and platters of grapes. The cold, chilly surface of the table sent a chill up my spine, although maybe the chill was formed from my racing adrenaline, dreading and fearing whatever might happen next.

I gazed up at the ribbed ceiling of the room, distracting myself with spiderweb-like patterns. Something tight and thin went across my ankles, pressing me down to the table.

"I'm sorry to see that you're so nervous, Rosalina." A young woman dressed like a Catholic schoolgirl stroked my cheek, her face wrinkling in concern. "We're tying your legs down so you don't convulse throughout the ceremony, all right?"

"W-what ceremony? Who are you people?" I banged my fists against the table. "I need answers, now!"

"We are the Church's coven." An older woman with dark hair and a kind, grandmotherly appearance approached my side, ruffling my hair as if she were my own mother. "Tonight is the night of the witch. Remember, Rosalina, all witchcraft comes from carnal lust, which is in women insatiable."

"Vengeance is hers for as long as she stands by him," the rest of the women said in unison. 

 _For as long as she stands by him._ I remembered Omega saying that in the infirmary, but what exactly what this blessing's purpose?

The coven then stripped down to nothing but their panties, exposing their navels tattooed with the Church's Grucifix, just like mine. Some of the women's bodies wrinkled and sagged with age, but despite how they looked on the outside, their hearts were filled with passion and desire, thriving on their promise to do anything to please the clergy, and  that was all that mattered. They then changed into the cassocks and masks of the Nameless Ghouls, further hiding away their identities, leaving themselves bare and soulless just like their kind, anonymous monsters made only to serve the Devil.

The Ghouls entered the parlor, their eyes purely black, no light remaining. As they joined the coven, they took daggers from out of their cassocks and sliced the blade against their hands, their palms oozing with blood. One of the Ghouls - the tallest, so most likely Air or maybe even Omega, I couldn't tell - went to the congregation with a chalice in his hands, collecting up drops of blood. I could only watch the events of the dream pass on with severe uncertainty, if I could even call this a dream. Everything seemed too vivid for this to be just a figment of my imagination.

Then, _he_ arrived. The one responsible for this nightmare. 

Papa passed by the congregation and approached the makeshift altar bed. My legs were spread open wide enough for him to see all, and judging by the glint in his eyes, he was pleased. He took off a leather glove and cut his bare hand as well, letting his blood drip into Air's chalice. The blood of the brothers, the sisters, and His Dark Excellency merged, coming together as one in celebration of sacrifice and sin. The blood of the covenant is thicker than water.

Papa dipped his finger into the chalice and hiked up my dress to just underneath my breasts. His fingertips lightly stroked my stomach as he began to draw the Grucifix on my quivering body, staining my skin red with the Church's blood. Papa's touch, much like his demeanor was cold, careless, but as our skin touched, my fright disappeared. On seas of wonder, ye confused stray, without a guiding light you see no ways. The game meant nothing to me in this dream. If I was able to do whatever I wished, then so be it.

"Now, it is time for you to join us, my little darling," Papa whispered, tracing his finger along my jaw.

"I'm not ready," I said breathlessly. "Please, give me one more day."

"We have waited far too long for you, Rosalina. I will not let my prophecy go to ruins."

"What prophecy?" The blood on my skin coagulated, but the blood inside me chilled. "Tell me, Papa!"

"Ah, ah." Papa shoved a gloved finger in my mouth. "No more questions, Rosalina. Close your eyes and rest."

He kept his finger inside my mouth as he proceeded to stroke my wrists with a long, relishing brush, continuing onward to my chest, hips, and thighs. Soft sighs passed through my lips as I shuddered in my bounds, crossing my legs to hold back how turned on I was becoming. The silk of Papa's chasuble brushed against my skin as he leaned in closer, nearly crushing my chest and ruining his bloody art. His mismatched eyes bore into mine for what felt like an eternity, as a sinister smirk graced his painted face.

I grinned back, slipping an arm from out of my bounds, bringing my hand to underneath his chasuble and right onto his bare, thick cock.

Papa took his finger out of my mouth, pleased.

"Will I be forgiven later on?" I asked coquettishly.

The skeletal priest smiled sickly. "No."

"Good. Bless me father, for I have sinned."

Papa lifted up his chasuble, revealing his erect cock. I licked my lips thoughtfully, remembering my Sisters' lessons. Tease and suck, tease and suck, to make your client fully satisfied.

I brought Papa's cock in my hands and began to stroke him slowly, avoiding the pining gazes from the congregation around us. The Ghouls must've been so mad with jealousy, waiting forever to play with their new courtesan. 'How dare she pull the first move on Papa,' they were probably thinking. 'She's supposed to be for us!'

Papa's eyes went wide with bemusement and a gasp of surprise escaped from his lips as I guided his cock to my mouth, swirling my tongue around the tip and slightly up his head. He buried his bare hands in my hair, feeling up my matted, blonde locks, gently guiding me closer to him.

"Rosalina..." Papa sighed. " _Bello amore_..."

Then, I took his length into my mouth, briefly struggling to fit him inside. His groans emanated throughout the parlor, making the coven shudder and yelp in response. Jealousy or excitement, I couldn't tell which. They'd done this plenty of times before.

Papa's cock pulsated inside my mouth, even as I slithered my tongue along from base to tip, creating a rhythmic motion. One hand remained buried in my hair while the other caressed my puffy cheek, swollen from how vigorously I sucked. He remained so deep inside me that his cock nearly pressed against the back of my throat.

 _I can't gag,_ I thought. _I can't disappoint Papa while I've got him under my spell._

At last, as Papa shuddered above me, he let out a satisfied grunt and spilled inside my mouth. His cum dripped down the back of my throat, and quickly, I swallowed, trying not to gag at the salty after-taste. Had I really done it? Granted, this was only a dream, but I had pleased my captor so much that maybe, just maybe, I really did win him over.

"That was _meraviglioso_ , Rosalina," Papa purred, "but I'm afraid the ceremony is far from over. In fact..." He grinned, showing his teeth. "We have not yet reached the moment of ritual breeding."

My heart nearly dropped to my stomach.

_Ritual breeding?_

"But I want more from you, Papa..." I moaned, trying to please him further.

"I shall give you whatever you desire, Rosalina." Papa turned to one of the observant witches. "Abrianna, strengthen the bonds."

The witch with the innocent looking eyes - Abrianna - drifted to my side and tugged on my bounds, further pinning my wrists and ankles against the table. I kept my eyes on Papa, and his gaze never left mine. This man, this Ghoul, whatever he may be, was giving me a second chance to live again. He was right all along; he'd show me to my destiny. I missed out on so much, and with Ghost, I could now have it all. I fell in love with this monster, the prey to his predator, but perhaps this is what pleasure indeed felt like. He would give me what I had struggled so long to find.

"You have been chosen, Rosalina. You are the Prime Mover that will bear the child of your grave... my unholy son."

I sat up and craned my head to try and get a better look. The Ghouls and the witches gathered behind Papa, whispering to themselves. I wasn't able to catch much of their conversation, except for a few words. Prime Mover. Satan. Mammon. Antichrist. 

_Impregnate._

"I know what you're thinking. This is much more than a simple night terror, my little darling. Destiny has brought us together, and now, we shall come together."

"Together as a one," the congregation recited.

"Come together..."

"For... for Lucifer's..." My eyes went wide with fright. "For Lucifer's son!"

Silence.

Papa slammed my back against the table and jammed his cold, throbbing cock inside of me, thrusting in and out with such fervor that it hurt me inside and temporally paralyzed me from the waist down. His hips repeatedly crashed against mine as my body remained completely still, frozen in horror. The cries passing from my lips were not of pleasure, but of pain. My lethargic state left me vulnerable for the ceremony, left me complacent so that Papa could try and conceive the Antichrist he always sung about. Was this to be my role in the Church now, a surrogate for something ripped straight out of Rosemary's Baby?

The elder witch walked over to my side and clenched her hand over my mouth.

"Don't worry, my child. It will take time before the unholy bastard will spawn in your womb, but I guarantee you, you will be our greatest Prime Mover yet." Her hand patted my stomach.

"Just give into your temptation, Rosalina," a raspy-voiced Ghoul advised. Omega. He drifted over to my side and stroked my sweaty forehead. "It will empower you and help you live."

"No!" I screamed. "This... this isn't a dream! This isn't a dream!"

The red windows shattered around me, sending shards of glass in every possible direction. The Ghouls and the coven faded into shapeless, dark shadows, seeping into the crevices in the walls. Only Papa remained, still standing in between my legs as he pulled himself out of me and stroked my sweaty forehead, pulling away strands of my blonde hair. He looked at me with his cold, mismatched eyes before retreating away like a wild animal, satisfied with his predatory feast.

_Where is my mind now?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> 'bello amore' - 'beautiful love'  
> 'meraviglioso' - 'wonderful'


	17. Banish Your Illusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosalie wakes up from her nightmare.

"Rosalina? Rosalina, wake up!"

My eyes shot open. The familiar sights of my new bedroom stuck out in my blurry vision - the dresser, the mirror, the window that served as my only looking glass to the outside world. Somebody sitting at my side was jostling around my body, but I hadn't glanced over at them yet, too stunned by the nightmare I just had to even acknowledge anybody.

"Are you all right, my little darling?"

I turned my head and met Papa's gaze. Had I been sleeping in his arms the whole time? 

"W-what happened?" I asked him uneasily. 

"I don't know," Papa said sarcastically. "What _did_ happen? Not all dreams are figments of our imagination, you know."

His words almost made me second-guess myself, but I pushed the thoughts aside, just this once.

"Well, I was in this red room with all of these women." I stared out into the distance, the nightmare replaying in my mind. "A coven of witches, actually, and they tied me down to this table..."

Papa hummed. "Go on."

"And then, you and the Ghouls came in, and I... um... got a bit carried away with you." I grimaced as I looked back at Papa. "Let's just say I'm not a novice when it comes to blowjobs."

Papa let out a cold laugh and placed his hand on my shoulder. "Oh, _mio dolce_ , I believe you've had yourself one hell of a wet dream!"

My cheeks flushed. How did he not believe me?

"It was real, I swear!" The feeling of cold blood on my stomach, the warmth of the fire... how couldn't it be real? "I felt everything... sensed everything..."

"It is quite normal to have dreams of pleasure even while in slumber," Papa explained, going off into his purple prose territory again. "In a way, dreams reveal so much that we fear to discover on our own. Of course, all our imaginations run down our faces, which may have been why you dreamed so vividly of... our encounter. I believe you're just worried about the ceremony, Rosalina. I assure you, there is nothing to fear. My Ghouls have vowed to be gentle with you, as I will myself. Besides, there is an important thing I must pass on to you, a little tidbit I once received from a friend back in Venice."

“What is it, Papa?"

Papa leaned in closer to me, so close I could feel his hot breath on my cheek.

“Anticipation is the _best_ part of pleasure. The longer you wait, the more powerful the pleasure becomes.”

I giggled nervously. "Well, _that_ makes sense, but are you sure it’s nerves? I think something else might be—“

Unexpectedly, Papa kissed my lips. I sensed no chill nor depravity. Instead, I felt... empathy, warmth, compassion even. Signs that he was actually concerned for my fear.

My body quivered again, almost like my mind egged me on to kiss Papa back, and so I obliged. I ran my hand down his face, staining my fingers white and black. I had a feeling there was something about Papa that would eventually make me fall for him - his charm, his suavity, his cockiness. An easy shot at corruption right under my nose. Despite the game I had to play, there was no more time to hide anything from him, fantasy or not. Ever since he calmed me down from the torture I endured, my heart raced at the mere thought of his presence. Loving someone can sometimes be dangerous, especially in a place like the Church of Ghost, but we all must take our risks.

"Do you really think a kiss will make me trust you, Papa?" I asked teasingly when his lips parted from mine.

"You'll trust me for more than a chaste move like that,” Papa said, chuckling.

"Well, feel free to take in my purity before it's soiled.” I spread my body out on the bed, being careful not to move in a way where my wounds would ache. “It's rather hard to feign innocence once you've been corrupted."

"Indeed, Rosalina. But alas, it is almost time for ritual! We must get you bathed and prepared."

"Bathed? Finally!"

I leapt up from Papa's arms, scrunching my face when I saw my nude reflection. My bare feet hit the floor as I stumbled toward my mirror, getting a closer look at the scars and bruises all over my body. In addition to the lashes I received in the cellar, a set of what looked like two animal-like scratches graced my waist, although they seemed to have already healed, no aloe vera required.

I traced my fingertips over them before glancing back at Papa in concern. 

"You haven't done anything while I was asleep, did you?" 

Papa gently shook his head and examined the scars for himself.

"Don't mind them, Rosalina. You'll still look stunning for our worshippers."

* * *

I must've sat in the bath for hours, the warm water soothing and rose-scented, relieving me from the scents of blood and cologne permeating through my nose. The bathroom looked like one you’d find in a four-star hotel on the Strip, complete with marble counters and golden bath taps. I remained imprisoned, yet in the lap of luxury. All the best for the Ghouls' courtesan. All I needed was a bunch of rose petals floating atop the water and slices of cucumbers on my eyes to seal the deal.

The Ghouls did their sound check downstairs - first keys, then drums, and finally guitars, each playing the melodic refrain from 'Monstrance Clock.' The Satanic hymn held much symbolism to me now. Seduction, rebirth, maybe betrayal down the line. Tonight, I would be bound to these Nameless Ghouls - not quite willingly, but not against my will, either. If joining this Church was the key to finally letting go of my inhibitions, then so be it.

When I was finished with my soak, I rinsed out my hair and let my damp curls rest on my back. I changed back into the white gown and freshened up my makeup, darkening my eyelids to give myself more of that soulless, vampy look. I pinched my cheeks to give them the slightest hint of color, while I shaded my lips with that dark shade of red that made my pale skin glow. I looked like a porcelain doll about to be dropped, shattered, cracks forming in the fine, white china. Most dolls looked the same - I wanted to be different, stand out from the crowd. 

My steps out of the bathroom were small and timid. From the banister, I noticed several worshippers seeking out spots for tonight's ceremony, dressed in their cloaks and masks. Initiations must be a big deal in the Church of Ghost - another soul sold to Satan, another soul to become one of them. Only a hundred or so people attended these rituals, creating a private, intimate affair. Like the Ghouls, I'd never know who the people behind the masks were. Lawyers, doctors, measly reporters like me? Perhaps that's why they flocked to the Church of Ghost, so nobody knew of their secret desires.

Papa waited in my room, reading a book bound in red leather. _The Master and Margarita,_ I noticed, a story about a woman who joined Satan's side after her lover mysteriously vanished. In the end, after all the grief she suffered, Margarita became a witch, basking in her desire to love. Or was it the desire to break away from her sheltered life? I'd read the story so long ago that I forgot the gist of it.

I cleared my throat to get his attention.

"Do I look pretty enough for the worshippers, Papa?"

Papa looked up. His usual stony glare softened into a mesmerized gaze. Hell, he even smiled!

" _Sembri affascinante!_ " Papa beckoned me closer and brought me onto his lap. "You look ravishing, Rosalina. The white brings out more of your figure and your fetching features. Do you think the same?"

"If that's what _you_ think," I answered haughtily.

Papa buried his head into the crook of my neck and kissed the area of my jugular vein, letting his lips feel my pulse. The new blood was now all his to savor, to call his own.

"Papa, I don’t think you’d want to ruin your face paint before the ritual, you know."

His head immediately shot up.

"Shit. Oh well, the worshippers don't get that close to us, anyway."

"But perhaps you might want a teaser before we go downstairs?"

I slid the top of my nightgown down, grazing my fingertips against an erect nipple popping out from the fabric. 

"No, no, we have no time!" Papa was quick to stop me, surprisingly, taking my wrist in his hand. "The ritual is about to begin without us!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> 'sembri affascinante' - 'you look charming'


	18. Ceremony and Devotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosalie undergoes her initiation ceremony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for dubious consensual sex and more of that creepy, Black Mass shit.

Papa took my hand and guided me down the staircase, showing me off to the worshippers like a polished pearl. Even in the dim candlelight, the eyes behind the masks unsettled me, as they took in the sight of my gauzy, white dress, my breasts erect behind the fabric. Verona and Alessa waited for Papa with their leads lowered, dressed in their nuns' wimples and robes, while the Ghouls barricaded the platform where the altar bed and Papa's pulpit stood. A blindfolded piano player sat at Air's keyboard up on the dais, playing a dissonant, dreadful tune to serve as the score for my initiation, my transformation, when the caged bird won back her chance to fly.

Indeed, they were excited. A new initiative always made for good news for the Satanic church, another person swayed over to the dark side. Another step closer toward evil usurping the world, or at least what Papa wanted to believe was true.

"Rosalina, you are pale." Papa stopped at the end of the staircase to tie the red ribbon around my neck. "You are nervous, aren't you?"

"A little," I confessed.

"Don't be. All of our devotees go through the ceremony to become one of us. Think of this as starting your life over."

I slowly nodded, his words not reassuring me at all.

Papa then tugged at my ribbon as if I were a dog, leaving me to trail behind him. Despite how awkward I must've looked, I tried to straighten my shoulders and relax, even smile at some of the worshippers I passed. But the thought of being dragged like a freak on a leash already proved to be mortifying enough. Shockingly, though, I heard no snicker nor banter from the worshippers. Just eager eyes hiding behind carnival masks, waiting for the moment when I'd become one of them.

I was eventually led to the altar bed. Papa stopped me from going any further and turned to address the crowd.

“You all remember the reporter girl, correct?”

Most of the worshippers groaned or even booed in response.

“Do not fear, my children. Tonight, the woman once known as Rosalie Hammond will become a part of our Church. She has told me that she would like to lose herself to absolute pleasure, and now, we will grant her wish. We can help her evolve and become a new woman, one who thrives in sin as opposed to being afraid of it!" Papa brought a hand to his pointy ear. "Tell me, my children, what was it you were told upon your arrivals?”

“If you have Ghost, you have everything!”

Papa's hand stroked my clothed hips, black leather against white velvet. He used his other hand to unbutton my dress from the back, letting it fall to a heap, a white pool of fabric sitting at my ankles. Goosebumps prickled on my nude, exposed body, the cold stinging my skin. If the enthralled sighs of awe and glimmering eyes were anything to go by, the worshippers were pleased with what the Church had received.

"N-no..." Mortified, I covered my breasts and crossed my legs. At least my bandages still somewhat shielded me from the devouring eyes of the crowd.

“No, don’t hide yourself." Papa's hands gently moved mine away from my breasts. “Mammon has chosen you to join us, Rosalina. It was like his heart was captivated by an innocent soul like you, delighted by someone so beautiful, like when Eve bit into the apple and succumbed to the sweet temptation of the serpent. It isn't like you have someone to replace you, no?"

I shook my head. I had no one other than Damien, but even then, my curiosity led me here.

"I don't understand why you want to seek death, Rosalina. This is your chance to live freely, to find yourself. We are giving you the chance, but you repulse us like we are the ugly beasts that want to sink our fangs into your flesh! In a way, we are death, death of innocence and death of restriction. You are Mammon's gift to us, Rosalina, and I would appreciate if you respected his choice.”

The Ghouls took daggers from out of their cassocks and slid their blades against the meaty flesh of their palms. Blood ebbed out of their open wounds, dripping into small puddles on the tiled floor. Papa went around with a glass chalice and collected each Ghoul's blood, turning their wrists over before he too cut himself and let his blood drip into the glass, merging the blood of his disciples.

My heart pounded furiously, steady beats of trepidation. It was happening all over again, the nightmare, and in front of an entire group of people and not just a small group of strange witches.

Once he cleaned his hand, Papa offered the chalice to me.

“Cleanse yourself with our blood. It shall cleanse you of your past, your vulnerability to succumb to your darkest desires. Our blood is now your blood.”

I proceeded to dip two fingers into the goblet, but Papa stopped me.

“No, you will need some assistance. Boys, will you do the honor?”

The Ghouls ushered me over to the altar bed and laid me down. I stared up at the ribbed ceiling, keeping my eyes glued on the patterns as one of the Ghouls dipped his fingers into the chalice and began to rub the warm blood on my forehead and cheeks, stroking my skin with a soft touch. I sucked in my breath, letting the rest of the Ghouls continue painting on me with their combined blood, staining my chest, thighs, and navel, right by where my Grucifix tattoo had started to heal. Not once did I dare look up, in fear of what I must've looked like to these stunned worshippers.

Papa stroked his fingertips along the nape of my neck and lowered his lips close to my ear.

"Let my Ghouls explore you. Once this ends, you'll be free to discover the temptations of life you were too frightened to find."

"I..." The blood had coagulated quickly, sticky on my skin. "Yes, Papa."

"Good. Now, let it begin."

Papa helped me off the altar bed, leading me to the edge of the platform so that every worshipper would have a perfect view of what was about to occur. He then brought me into his arms and kissed both my blood-stained cheeks, lapping up the dry blood on his tongue. Even as I lay limp in his arms, nothing comforted me, not even Cosima herself, who stood some feet away, nearly hidden. I wonder what she thought of all this. Remembering our encounter, she may have not been so surprised to see me up here, not as a sacrifice, but as a gift, a possession. This is what the women of Ghost desired, to be loved by Papa, ravished. Very few got this honor.

Papa ghosted his lips across my flesh, going down from my cheeks to my neck, to each breast, kissing the tops of each. He stopped at the area of my heart, feeling its rhythmic pulse against his lips. A mortal heartbeat, how divine. Did Ghouls even have heartbeats? I meant to ask Omega, before Earth told me of how much of a treacherous person he could be. Did blood still course through their veins, did their hearts swell with pride? Or were they indeed the soulless monsters they were, unable to feel a thing?

Papa then paused briefly at my stomach. His other hand snaked around my waist, his fingertips stroking as if his child rested in my womb. I prayed that procreation wasn't the reason why I was kept here, unlike what the witch in my nightmare told me. I feared pregnancy - the thought of carrying life inside me unnerved me to no end. If I wasn't careful here, perhaps that may indeed happen, and who knew what the Church did to children.

"She is the one, boys." Papa retreated and stepped back down to the platform. "She is our Prime Mover. You may ravish her as you wish."

The Ghouls crept over to me like shadows, clinging to my skin. Together, their hands explored my flesh, feeling my protruding ribs and pert nipples, my heaving chest and trembling legs. I even felt some lips roam around my skin, some gliding of tongues to cleanse my body of the stains of blood. I took in the Ghouls' scent, sandalwood and orchids and citrus, combined with the frankincense burning in the clay pots surrounding us.

Weakly, my head drooped to my shoulder. Someone's lips crashed onto mine, their mask's beak nearly stabbing my chin. They hadn't shaved, as coarse stubble scratched my face. I gazed up into the glassy blue eyes of Alpha, savoring my once-tormentor's kiss. Lips below vigorously sucked at my chest, leaving small, dark spots that graced my pallid skin, while teeth bit at the chubby skin of my thighs, all while I let these Ghouls take over me, body and soul.

_Zombie Queen... black light guides you..._

Papa watched this all unfold from his throne, his eyes hardened. He probably regretted not going any further with his foreplay. Perhaps he wasn't even allowed to. Verona and Alessa, on the other hand, watched with disinterest, unaffected. They'd seen this all before. For them, this was just another ritual.

Alpha's lips parted from mine, giving me the chance to let clean air filter through my lungs. Tongues and mouths latched off of my body, leaving me vulnerable, open, bare except for blood stains and bruises and wet strips of saliva.

"Now, who shall be the brave Ghoul that consummates the union between past and future, from fear to eternity? Who shall make this girl one of us?"

Silently, Omega stepped up.

Whispers circulated throughout the worshippers, even a few gasps. The reason behind their surprise, I almost didn't want to know. I knew Omega was not someone to be trusted, but feared. Compared to the other Ghouls, he was the behemoth among them. Broad-shouldered, stocky, aggressive when he needed to be, but also kind, warm-hearted.

What if beauty tamed the beast?

Omega brusquely pointed toward the altar bed. A sharp, cold look gleamed in his eyes, and his breaths were slow, hitched behind the mask, a beast expelling its anger.

Instead of stepping back up onto the slab of aged wood, I timidly approached him and rose to the balls of my feet, cupping the plastic cheek of his mask in my hand. I bowed my head, trying to find his lips underneath the balaclava, and once I did, I kissed them, igniting the same passion I felt when we first made love in my bedroom.

The worshippers' cries of surprise intensified.

"That's never been done before!"

"That's out of code!"

Omega gazed down at me, his eyes widened. I had taken back the night, made this intiation ceremony my own. That's what Papa wanted, wasn't it? Instead of feeling broken and used, perhaps showing that I had my own power would be a stronger thing to convey than just laying on the altar bed, discarded, nearly lifeless.

Finally, Omega sank deeper into my kiss, lifting me up in his strong arms. He carried me over to the altar bed, laying me down and spreading my legs open. I tugged on his pellegrina and brought him closer to me, undoing the buttons of his cassock, running my fingers along his pale chest. I could've sworn I felt tingles.

"Watch how lust easily takes over her mind, my children!" Papa watched us in a flabbergasted state of awe. "Our friend Mammon knows all the ways of pleasure, and with her rebirth, Rosalina has discovered what it takes to please our master!"

Omega draped his cassock over my body for privacy. No need for the worshippers to see such graphic sex unfold. There was no room to get comfortable now, but closer.

"P-please, be gentle," I whispered. "D-don't hurt me. Please."

Subtly, Omega nodded.

"I'm sorry."

His raspy voice made me do a double take.

"What?" I leaned my head up.

"I'm sorry that..." He paused, trying to find the right words. "That this may hurt."

Redeemed, and I longed for him again.

Omega's fingers grazed against my entrance, inserting two fingers inside me. He rubbed slowly, teasing me as he tried to find the spot that stuck out the most, the special spot that just might increase my stamina, my sex drive. His fingers arched, staying in one spot as a moan escaped from my lips. He'd found it.

"O-Omega..." Sweat dripped down my chest as I felt myself get wet, my body trembling. "T-that's i-it..."

He bent down and kissed my thighs, pleased that he had prepared me so quickly. Then, I felt his cock brush past my entrance, and soon, he sheathed himself into me, beginning to thrust, thankfully slow. Omega rocked his hips back and forth, colliding with mine. That uncomfortable yet satisfying feeling flowed through me again, and instead of recoiling back, I embraced the new sensation of pleasure.

"Y-yes..." I sighed, arching my back.

Omega's thrusts got faster, more primitive, more fulfilling. More moans make their presence, echoing throughout the atrium. I dragged him closer to me again, feeling his lips against my neck, nibbling on the soft flesh. I kept in rhythm with his thrusts as I was pushed further from the edge, feeling his lips everywhere on my skin. Yes, this is what attaining pleasure was to be! I would not let these Nameless Ghouls take advantage of my body because they were dictated by Papa to do so. They would have to confront me first, begging me to give in to their own temptations.

"Omega... Omega!"

The orgasm was more of a scream, ripping through me, leaving my throat raw. Omega pulled himself in and out, in and out, each time with a low grunt, until finally, he spilled his seed inside me. He lingered for a moment, staying inside me.

So much for bragging to be the first to bed the courtesan.

" _Est unus ex nobis!_ " The worshippers' chants were frantic, fast. " _Ea cum una Satanas!_ "

Omega took my hand and helped me off the altar bed. My knees buckled and my clit burned, my hands and legs trembling. I clang to Omega to steady myself, burying myself in the black cloak that Water offered to me. Had I done it?

I made it through this Hell.

Papa rose from his throne and approached me, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"That was beautiful, Rosalina. Simply amazing."

"T-thank you?" Was I supposed to take that as a compliment?

Papa turned back to the worshippers and silenced them with a wave of his hand.

“Rosalie Hammond is now dead to the world. We now welcome Rosalina into the Church of Ghost, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Unholy Spirit! Now, let us celebrate the end on this night of ritual! Nema!”

“Nema! Hell Satan! Zombie Queen!"

_What had become of me?!_

"No!"

The worshippers went silent.

Before Papa or the Ghouls could confront me, I rushed back upstairs, running as if my feet were on fire. I pushed my bedroom door aside, not even bothering to close it as I collapsed onto my bed and sobbed right into my pillow, hyperventilating. How dare I feel so liberated, tainted by Ghost's unholy practices! This Church is my prison, not my freedom! They took me away from everything - away from Damien, away from my family. And there was absolutely nothing I could do without feeling utmost shame and dishonor.

"Rosalina?"

"Where did she go?"

They'd find me here too quickly.

I ran to the bathroom, slamming the door shut. I climbed into the tub and sat with my knees huddled, rocking back and forth.

"Should've... never fucking... took the offer... the interview..."

The bathroom door slowly swung open.

"Rosalie?"


	19. Sympathy, Tenderness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omega returns to Rosalie, but what will become of their relationship?

"Rosalie, I know you're in there." Omega. "Is it all right if I talk to you? Explain everything?"

"S-sure..." I sniffled, sucking back in my tears. "Come in."

Omega slowly opened the door, his eyes scanning the bathroom. He found me sitting in the tub, nude and blood-stained, tears streaming down my cheeks. I watched as the look in his eyes softened; any trace of the predatory persona he took on downstairs had entirely vanished.

"I'm so sorry, Rosalie." Omega sat next to the tub, oddly keeping his hands behind his back, as if he was hiding something from me. "I didn't mean to—"

"You didn't do anything wrong." I exhaled deeply. "I did."

"You did nothing wrong. They were all just surprised that an initiative made her consummation her own ordeal. There's nothing wrong that." Omega's hands slowly emerged from behind his back, now suspiciously folded in his lap. "I meant... I think something terrible may have happened downstairs."

"Like what?"

I leaned over the tub and took one of Omega's arms, prying a hand off his lap. Not one, but both of his hands had turned pitch black, as if they were stained by an entire bottle of ink. No color remained, not even the pinkish coloration in his fingernails, nor did he seem to have any visible palm lines. Our lust combined transformed him into even more of a Ghoul, even more of a monster. He hadn't lied after all. Someone cursed to become a Nameless Ghoul really did go through physical sacrifices to order to serve the Church flawlessly.

Yet, I didn't flinch. I gazed down at his hand, running my thumb along the meat of his palm. Chilly to the touch, no pulse to be found.

"You're a monster..." I said under my breath.

Omega's voice faltered. "I know."

"No, I don't mean... I'm not mad at you." I looked back up at him, holding onto his hand reassuringly. "I mean, it's amazing how you're like this. Preternatural. I've never met anybody like you."

"Well, it's not necessarily a good thing. I've been like this for years now. I feel like I'm slowly decaying, and hell, I already have."

"You're not decaying. At least you're still here, with me."

"Rosalie..." Omega let out an anguished sigh. "I'm... I'm not sure if I should tell you yet, but—"

"Tell me what?" My eyebrows went up, concerned.

Omega stared deep into my eyes. The more I gazed into the blue, the more entranced I felt.

"I wasn't kidding when I said you're in terrible danger. You need to know the truth if you want to stay sane in this place."

"Wait..." My voice trailed off. "Is this about that Prime Mover thing?"

Omega froze. "How did you know?"

"I was looking for you earlier." I didn't dare tell him what Earth told me. "I watched the meeting you all had with Papa. He said I'm..." Visions of the nightmare flashed before my eyes. The coven and the Ghouls whispering to each other, the Grucifix being drawn on my stomach... there was no way it was just my imagination. "He said I'm of some purpose?"

"Let me tell you exactly what's happening." Omega sat up. "Our Church... isn't necessarily a Church. We're called the Ghost Project. It's run mainly by Sister Imperator, the head witch of the coven. She supposedly foretold that a woman pure of heart and mind would carry the Project's own Antichrist, and so she told Papa to find the perfect woman to carry out this task."

"Was it the same with the first Papa?" I asked, remembering what little I knew about him.

Omega nodded. "That's why our whole first record was about the Prime Mover, the Antichrist's surrogate mother. But even before our first Papa died, we never found her. Enter our current Papa. He's been with us for a few months now, and you know how much of a ladies' man he is." He paused. "Rosalie... after you interviewed that Special Ghoul, Papa told us you met every single prequisite. He thinks you are our Prime Mover."

"W-what?" Everything Papa said at that meeting was true!

"He thinks once you conceive and give birth, he'll attain more power and take over the Project for himself, and his son will enter the lineage of Papas. He needs new blood, and he thinks you'll be the one to bring new blood to him. His time is running out. There may only be one more Papa after his run."

“So my only purpose is to give some insane old man a child?  _That’s_ the reason why I’m a courtesan? Just… what the fuck, Omega? And I thought _I_ was the one going crazy here!"

"But I won't let that happen to you, Rosalie. The other Ghouls need to get their shirt together and realize just how dangerous Papa's becoming. He's taking away innocent lives, forcing people into captivity... he's only losing what kept him sane. Why do you think I came to you last night? I don't want to see you in that position ever again. I wanted to prove to you that... that us Ghouls have the ability to empathize, too, even if it's hard to do."

"I thought I'd be totally alone." Tears pooled in my eyes. 

"I cared about you even when you first got here, Rosalie." He squeezed my hand. "Papa has no right to be treating you in the way he is. Even though we're working on standing up to him and calling him out to the Project, you've got to keep him distracted. The Project never listens to A Nameless Ghoul, but you'll be able to help us. I hate to say this, but you'll need to become more aware of your surroundings."

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Because if you had gone too far, I wouldn’t have been able to save you.”

"Then what am I going to do, Omega? I act like I love him. He's fallen for it already!"

"Good thing you've got an act set up, then. That's a smart idea, but you'll have to continue playing against Papa, at least until I can figure out how to execute our plans. Try to keep your distance from him, and when you do see him, keep it brief. That's all I can pretty much tell you."

I straightened up. Playing against Papa... I liked the sound of that.

"I'll do whatever I can to help you."

"Oh, here." Omega handed me a black bundle. "I got you a little something."

I unfolded the bundle, finding another dress and something silver that landed onto the floor with a thud. Omega picked it up for me and held it in front of my eyes, revealing a necklace of the band's Grucifix attached to a silver chain, just like his.

"Did you make this?" I grabbed the necklace and played around with it, the silver catching the light.

"You know, I believe our friends-with-benefits situation doesn't just involve sex," Omega said cheekily, pulling my hair back to place the necklace around my neck. "Remember? I swore I would be your friend. I'm going to protect you from that monster of a man, Rosalie, even if it means risking my title in the Project."

I climbed out of the tub and slipped on the black dress. It fit my form perfectly, hugging my waist to show off my curves. The dress would now serve as my second skin, a darker one to conceal all that was good.

"I guess I'm ready to go."

“I’ll take you." Omega took my hand and ushered me out of the bathroom. Thankfully, the atrium was vacant, unlike the first night I was here. “I should warn you, celebrations tend to get a little rowdy. The music is loud, the men get drunk… and it’s just as bad when the celebration is held outside, like tonight. Hope you can stand the stench of roasted pig, because I certainly can't."

“Whatever you do, please don’t leave me,” I held onto Omega’s arm like a scared child.

"Don't be scared. Just stay by me and I'll make sure nobody hurts you."

The pathway to celebration was dark, lit by sconces holding ignited flames that thankfully didn't overheat the already humid night breeze. We traversed through a wide open forest clearing, brightened by flickering strobe lights and colorful lasers, similar to what you'd find at a rave. A violin spat out a crazy, fast-paced tune created by a purple-masked worshipper girl's hand as the now nude virgins danced around the blazing fire, screeching their heads off with laughter. Fresh meat was being cooked over another fire, the scents of smoke and rotting flesh drifting all the way to the mansion. Moans of pleasure, hearty laughter, and startled shrieks mixed together in a fury of sound. It almost reminded me of a renaissance fair, albeit one chock full of Satanism and a tab of ecstasy.

"It's her! Rosalina!"

The worshippers' eyes lit up in excitement. The violinist stopped her song as everyone cleared the path for Omega and I.

Papa intently watched my every move from the bench he sat on with Verona and Alessa, smirking proudly.

"Rosalina.  _Avvicinati._ "

I approached the bench and swept into a curtsy, lowering just enough to tease him with a view of my cleavage.

"I have been reborn in sin, your Dark Excellency, thanks to your guidance."

The other four Ghouls helped Papa off the bench. His chasuble trailed behind him as he approached me, lifting my head up by the chin, forcing me to stare into his eyes. The light in Papa's eyes glimmered with an emotion I couldn't quite detect amidst the drifting smoke. And yet, all my worries and doubts were pushed away to the deep recesses of my mind, and I smiled through my darkly painted lips.

This is exactly what Papa wanted to see.

Papa took my hand in his and raised our hands to the night sky.

"To Rosalina! Our Zombie Queen!"

"Hell Satan!" The worshippers cheered, raising their bottles of Unholy Grale in a toast. "For as long as she stands by him!"

Perhaps playing the illusionist's game would be easier than I thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> 'avvicinati' - 'come closer'


	20. Interlude: Wo bist du?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damien join forces with an unlikely helping hand to save Rosalie.

**JANUARY 2014**

**LAS VEGAS, NEVADA**

**DAMIEN'S POV**

Thoughts of Rosalie haunted me every night.

I couldn't believe it was three months ago to the day when she sacrificed herself to the band Ghost and their disturbing cult that functioned so normally as your average rock band. That night played in my mind every night, making me lose countless hours of sleep. Papa's words still echoed in my head - "Expect your puerile mind to be inflamed with the guilt of sin" if I ever returned to their mansion.

The very thought of it all weakened me to my core. Why was it so hard for me to go back and confront the evil lurking in the shadows? They wouldn't even let me save her, and they'd use any means possible to keep me away. I didn't even know such evil existed in the world, but it was rare, and oddly unique, that evil could be so easily hidden by greasepaint and masks.

The band's chauffeur, a New Yorker named Martin, drove me back to Mandalay Bay so I could retrieve my car. At least he sympathized with me, being another pawn of the Ghost Project, as Martin called the Church. You see, Martin had a close connection with them - he served as a double agent, disguising himself as a masked worshipper to retrieve information for the paparazzi.

"If your girlfriend couldn't exploit them," Martin told me, "then we will. People need to know the truth."

One thing Martin did suggest was to use the power of social media to spread awareness of the Ghost Project's evil. I made missing posters and hung them up everywhere - lamp posts, drugstores. I even drove out to the Strip and handed them out to concierge workers and strip club managers. In a small act of defiance, I even brought them to Mandalay Bay - six copies, in fact.

"I want you to know that the band playing in your House of Blues abducted my girlfriend," I told the human resources manager. "They've ruined our lives!"

The manager shook his head. "Sorry, bud. They paid for the gig and they're not going to back out. Your loss."

People caught word of my posts - I had almost a thousand likes on a Facebook page I created called "Vegas Against Ghost B.C." - so much that rock blogs like Loudwire and Metal Hammer wrote about me. They even tried to reach out to Papa for his comments, but of course they were declined. I had to talk to people who didn't believe me, thinking this was all a ruse for Ghost to go away, and fans who swore by Ghost with all their hearts. Not that there was anything wrong with supporting a band you love, but how were they so oblivious to everything?

And then Rock Uncovered caught wind of my social media protesting.

I called Samuel Berkeley the day after the madness. I needed to pay him a little visit - maybe he'd understand why this all happened.

Our phone call consisted of several minutes of silence, with the occasional obscene whisper of horror on his end.

"I knew it." Every second of horrified silence pained me even more. "I shouldn't have fucking done it. Great!" He slammed his fist against his desk so loudly that I could hear it on the other line. "We're fucked! They're going to come for all of us!"

"Don't you care that one of your best reporters was captured by lunatic Satanists?" I argued. "It might look like a gimmick, but this is a matter of life and death, Berkeley! They are in fact the real deal!"

"I know they're the real fucking deal, kid!" Berkeley argued back. "I spoke with Papa Emeritus himself! Look, I was a real dumbass, all right? They told me they would invite Rosalie to their after-party, not keep her imprisoned in their little Satanic House of Horrors! I tried getting in touch with him but he's disconnected his number and he's not answering any emails. All that's left is going to Mandalay and trying to get her back somehow. In fact... I'm glad you called me, Dresden. We need to work this shit out. What you've been doing is smart. I like that."

"I met someone who's got close ties with the band," I told him, remembering Martin. "He's sort of their double agent. It's a lot to explain and I'd prefer to tell you in person. But he gave me an idea..."

Berkeley took a deep sigh. "Come to my office, kid. Tell the two receptionists that good ol' Berk sent you."

From the moment I entered Rock Uncovered's offices, I sensed a feeling of grief lingering everywhere. Reporters quietly typed their articles in their cubicles, while photographers showed their work to their peers in hushed whispers. Rosalie's office door - brown and emblazoned with a black plaque with her name on it - remained closed, sealed shut like a tomb.

Mr. Berkeley himself sat in his office, spinning around the tea bag in his black AC/DC mug aimlessly. He looked up at me when I entered his office, trying not to say something that wasn't, "Fuck," or, "I can't believe I gave her that assignment." Despair really did take over this man's mind.

Three months later, this man became my business partner.

Now, as I sat in Sam's office, things finally clicked into place. Today, we received a tip that Rosalie was alive and well, thank God, spotted by the tour bus at one of the Mandalay shows, although heavily disguised. A low quality photo posted onto Instagram showed Rosalie dressed a Nameless Ghoul, complete with mask and clergyman cassock, standing behind those two nuns that nearly killed me. One could mistake her for another member of the band, maybe that one Nameless Ghoul with the hidden eyes and ridiculous hand gestures I've seen on television, if it weren't for the wisps of blonde hair hanging out of her hood. It couldn't be anybody else.

"Look, kid, I think I can trust you," Sam said, twirling around his newly purchased jester mask by its black ribbon. "A friend of Hammond's is a friend of mine. Your girlfriend was one of my finest writers, and I think some of her sincerity was passed down to you. I thought that Ghost would be a perfect cover story, but thanks to you I realize it’s going to ruin the magazine. They’re stealing women and manipulating them into doing sex acts? That’s not right at all."

Joining forces with someone as conniving as Berkeley was a skeptical thing to do at first. He even ranted on how the headline of 'Satanist Cult Exploited by Veteran Shock Rock Writer and his Dashing Cohort' would sell, but once Sam brought up the possibility of the band fading into obscurity, I was all in. A band like Ghost should not exist, simple as that. Their cruel intentions were cleverly hidden behind the gimmicky lyrics and costumes, the dry ice and the incense. How such a cult could exist, I wasn't even able to question. All I knew was that these men and their crimes needed to be stopped before they could get any worse.

Every time I looked at my phone's screen, my lockscreen wallpaper of me and Rosalie kissing broke my heart. I missed her warm smile, her kind, blue eyes when she looked at me. I even missed her rather awkward sarcasm, whenever she commented on the city life of Vegas as if she was someone with years of experience under her belt. Nevertheless, as I slipped on my cloak as Berkeley and I stood in the elevator, I knew she'd be back in my arms in a matter of days. Our plans were finally taking wing, after three months of pure agony, and as soon as Rosalie returned home, life would go on just as it did before.

I’m going to get you out of there, Rosalie, even if it means sacrificing my life for you.


	21. A Change in Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three months have passed since Rosalie became the Church of Ghost's courtesan.

Before I took up writing, acting was more of my passion. I used to perform in school musicals and dance competitions, letting the thrill of becoming someone else seize me for the time I had away from the real world. I lost myself in the music or the story, letting the melodies resonate through my soul as I traversed through magical places I only read about in books. Those were the moments when I was able, or more allowed, to prove my true caliber of talent, to show that I had what it took to submerge myself in my art.

I don't know why or even how I lost my acting streak. One could say I realized the truth of what lies in the world, that playing make-believe can't last forever. Being in someone else's shoes wasn't a very good way to express the thoughts I seldom shared with anybody. 

In the Church of Ghost, I had the perfect opportunity to become someone else. If I didn't, I would perish. Like being on the stage, I had to hide my personal problems tucked away in the recesses of my mind. Here, I was nobody but a courtesan to the Nameless Ghouls. Whenever they entered my bedroom, I transformed from being someone with bottled up anger and regret to a perky, submissive, compliant woman shaped to the Ghouls' wants and desires. For me, serving as a courtesan was a business first, and even though I wasn't being paid in cash, I slowly earned the Ghouls' love and devotion.

At least, what the Ghouls thought was love. They're too absorbed in sin to understand what love truly is.

Love is something you have to work hard to gain. It involves trusting your significant other fully, understanding where their boundaries lay. Only when you receive their undying devotion in return should you indulge in the pleasures of the flesh. It's more of an adventure that way, when something so beautiful and powerful can be created from your love alone. Love shouldn't be a competition based on survival of the fittest, or who can do what better. It should be based on the other person and them alone.

This is something four out of five Nameless Ghouls cannot understand. At the rituals, when I stood in the circle of women and threw off my black robe, the Ghouls went crazy, knowing that I was theirs. There was no need for them to pick virgins out of the crowd any longer - I wasn't needed to be deflowered. A devotee dreamed of being ravished by a Nameless Ghoul, and I filled the position. As a courtesan, my body is open to whatever the Ghouls desire. I even heard they negotiate beforehand as to who gets to choose me each ritual night. I never find out whom until the moment of, so I'm totally oblivious as to what end of the spectrum I'll find myself on.

Each Ghoul has his different preferences. Earth is a passionate lover whose kisses you could sink into and whose touch was relaxing, not at all violating. Alpha's lust is indeed carnal as they say, for he likes his sex hard and rough. Water is a bit of a mixed bag - one day he can be calm and almost hesitant to touch your body, but other days he wasn't afraid to nibble on your neck until your skin bruised beneath his teeth. Air is a bit of a mystery. I didn't visit him often, but when I did, I sat in darkness, feeling spindly fingers crawling on my skin, exploring wordlessly.

As for Omega? Just when I thought there'd be nobody to help me adjust to my new life, or to comfort me when the nightmares plagued my mind, Omega broke through the darkness and ensured I was rightfully protected. He stayed at my bedside each and every night, helping me calm down from the sheer embarrassment of servicing his anonymous brothers. When I was bored, he took me outside to the woods for fresh air and sunlight, or to the garden of ruins, where we let the belfry bats free, to fly away across the blazing Nevada sun. Sometimes, he even helped me learn how to read chords, how to perfect my technique of playing guitar - "I heard you play Metallica before and you've got good technique, but let's try and make it better." Most of my free time was spent with Omega, and with time, my love for him grew.

Our relationship was kept secret for a reason, though. The Nameless Ghouls aren't supposed to have lovers. Their sworn duties were to spread the Ghost Project's teachings and to keep hold of the Church, playing the same hymns four nights a week, both at Mandalay and at ritual. They even had to kidnap people that Papa saw in the audience and took a liking to, seeing them fit to be sacrificed or made into virgins or devotees. In the Church of Ghost, you're either killed or transformed into Papa's possession. Stranded in a world of monsters, I was required to make love with faceless creatures, and death nor freedom was not an answer anymore.

In my rare moments of solace, I thought of Damien. The memories we shared together kept me happy at night, when I tried to fall asleep amidst the loud music of celebration and Omega's occasional snoring. Did Damien find someone new, or did he vow that he'd never find another person because of the sacrifice I made for him? Maybe he attended another ritual, although masked and cloaked like everyone else, having no choice but to sadly watch. I missed him terribly - my heart ached for him. But how would he react to my relationship with Omega, if he ever returned? Perhaps he'd understand that I at least found someone to confide in, someone who wasn't out to hurt me... someone who wasn't Papa.

I knew my place in Papa's sick, twisted game – I am just a pawn advancing slowly on the board, inching closer and closer until I destruct.

Papa always had me at his side like a cherished prize - not quite a trophy wife, but pretty damn close. Wherever he went, I followed, and in front of the worshippers and the Ghouls, I pretended to be madly in love with him. I even praised him for 'changing' me into the woman I was now. At rituals, he led me in waltzes to 'Genesis' and 'Secular Haze' ("These songs are made for dancing!") and I sat perched atop his lap before the blazing fire, my hand teasingly brushing past his hard cock, to manipulate his mind just as he had done with mine. Yet, he never wanted to have sex with me, thank God. He wanted his sweet Rosalina to remain 'pure' for him, even though the Ghouls had taken up her offerings already.

As much as it disgusted me, Omega's advice to keep playing the game stayed fresh in my mind. No matter how many gifts Papa gave me, or how many times he showered praises and compliments on me, would make me believe that he truly loved me. Papa knew I was suffering, and he was trying to distract me. He knew I'd rather die than offer up my body to five anonymous men sworn to Satan's loyalty. Papa's charisma happened to be the most dangerous thing to play against. His soul may be old but his lust is still sharp, able to seduce a woman to his side rather easily. I almost fell into this honey trap multiple times, but every time, I managed to fight my way out. In turn, I had manipulated the senile priest, tricking him into believing I loved it here. I saw it in his eyes. He desperately wants to call me out for my actions and words, but he became so enamored by my presence that he couldn't.

To commence today's clergy meeting, Papa had me stand in front of the Ghouls. I wore nothing but the Grucifix necklace Omega gave me and a black chiffon slip that grossly exaggerated my lanky arms and legs. I didn't understand how the Ghouls viewed me as so desirable. I wasn't as curvy as Alessa and I didn't have a pretty smile like Verona. The biggest rule of the Church of Ghost was that whatever Papa liked was something you should like, too, otherwise you'd find yourself on the wrong end of the stick. I didn't need them to necessarily like me as a person, but in the long run, I secretly wished for more friends.

"Look how much Rosalina has changed since she's been with us, boys." Papa spun a lock of my blonde hair around his finger. "What do you think? She is no longer that mousy reporter girl, no?"

"She's a lot more confident now!" Alessa remarked, though the look in her eyes suggested she thought otherwise.

"We've taught our newest devotee well," Verona added.

Both the Sisters still claimed Papa as their territory, especially on nights of celebration. In fact, Verona and Alessa stopped their lessons with me just last week, and refused to acknowledge my presence aside from clergy meetings. Though sometimes, I'd see Verona lurking around by herself, usually greeting me with a soft, "Hello, Rosalina." The usually demure but seductive Sister's veneer was starting to chip. I wondered if anything had happened to her recently that made her think differently of me now.

"She was graceful and delicate, like a little dove," Air mused. The keyboardist Ghoul hardly ever spoke, but when he did, his words were often filled with prose, a sharp contrast to the threatening way he spoke to me when I was captured. "But now, she is as bold and strong like a phoenix, reborn to live the life truly destined for her."

"Well put, Air," Papa said in agreement. "The little innocent Rosalie is gone."

 _Little. Innocent._ I wished he'd stop using patronizing words to describe me.

An hour later, Alpha barged into my room and slammed my body against the mattress, sheathing in and out of me from behind while echoing Papa's words in his usual snarl.

_Little innocent Rosalina, see how she falters. See how she struggles against the flames as her flesh burns beneath the fire. You're nothing but a pile of ashes!_

The only time I really had to myself was when celebration ended, when the creeping rays of dawn burst into the sky. Normally everyone went home or fell asleep in the morning, hiding from the penetrating daylight. Omega and I were still awake, making love and learning more about each other. I've learned a lot from him over the course of two months, strategies that may help me survive. Yet, he still never told me his real name. At this point, I didn't even need to know what it was.

I even learned about the Ghost Project's rather extensive history. Omega usually told me in bursts, often out of chronological order. One thing I loved about Omega was that he was a very vivid storyteller. If I closed my eyes as he spun his tales, I could envision myself in the places his stories took us.

One late December morning - I want to say it was around Christmastime, but of course, being a Church devoted to Satan, the Church of Ghost did not celebrate Christmas, aside from gift giving and mentions of Krampus - I asked Omega to tell me the story of how he became a Nameless Ghoul.

“We all sold our souls to Mammon a few years ago," he began. "All of us had our own troubled pasts. Banished from our families for our beliefs, divorced wives…”

“You never were married, were you?” I inquired. 

“No, I never was. Not worth my time to take a wife. Anyway, as we passed away, Mammon personally spoke to us. We couldn't see him... he materialized as nothing but a creeping, dark mist, tantalizing us with his scorching breath. He told us that in our pasts, we all had one thing in common: we liked music. He led us to Sister Imperator. She gave us our first mission, to spread Mammon's messages through music, and to form a community, which later became the Church of Ghost. Of course, Sister wanted us to take the Church on the road, so we narrowed down our name to just Ghost.”

“How did you receive your symbols, then?”

“Sister gave them to us. When we became Ghouls, she needed a way to distinguish us, so she referred to the alchemic elements and decided to give each element to who personified it best. Since quintessence is the energy of the whole universe, you could say I'm the glue that holds everyone together."

"But what about Papa?"

Omega paused. "Well, what would you like to know about him? I wish I could tell you his real name, but it's confidential information."

"No, tell me!" I buried my head into his shoulder. Please. I won't tell a soul."

"All right, all right." Omega ruffled my hair. "But promise you won't tell anybody. Not even Verona and Alessa know what it is."

"I promise!"

Omega leaned in closer to my ear.

"It's Giuseppe."

" _Giuseppe?_ " I snorted, holding back laughter. "That's the most Italian name I've ever heard!"

"He used to live in Rome, I think. Comes with the culture. The first Papa lived in England, but I forgot what his real name was..."

"It's a good thing you didn't find me when you were looking for the Papas. I sound like a dying mouse whenever I sing, and Gius- I mean Papa easily falls for it."

“No, we’ve all heard your voice before. Sometimes, when you’re wandering around the halls by yourself, we hear you singing songs from the classic rock bands. I must say, ‘Comfortably Numb’ is my favorite. I'm a big Pink Floyd fan."

My cheeks burned in embarrassment.

“Omega, you did not!” 

“You’ll sing when I fuck you, then!” Omega straddled me with his legs and hiked my dress up to my hips. “The screams and moans that come out of your mouth sound like they could be a new song entirely!”

“Aah! I hate when you’re so hardcore like this!” I laughed after a rushing fury of kisses and a poke from his beak. “You’re stealing Alpha’s tactic!”

"But does he know how to really love someone?"

After a moment, I answered, "Hell no!"

"Then I'm not stealing from anybody!"

Later on, I discovered the rest of Omega’s story. Sister Imperator went through a very long process to find a singer worthy of the Church, traveling from city to city in Sweden, to no avail. Once, while taking a sabbatical in London, a retired Catholic priest approached her, sickly thin and coughing up blood, his white-and-gold chasuble stained scarlet. He told Sister with tears in his glassy eyes that he only wished to live another life, a life with more adventure and less restriction. It's even what God wanted for him.

And so, Sister killed the man in mercy with her obsidian blade and offered his soul to Mammon. Mammon was unable to fully claim Papa's soul, his power significantly weakened. However, he did have some of his magic left in him, and granted Papa Emeritus I five years of afterlife to prove his perverted, dark worth he hid from the Catholic church for so long. Once everything was in order, Sister found an abandoned chapel in Linköping to call headquarters, hired the Ghouls, and thus, the Ghost Project unfurled its dark wings.

Of course, Papa I died, only living out two of his five expected years - he died in 2012. The papal process resumed, but this time, finding Giuseppe Valentini, or Papa Emeritus II, took less work. At the ripe age of fifty-six, Valentini already served as a cardinal of the sect ("His brother's an odd one," Omega added), so Sister immediately hired him as the in-house replacement for Papa I. Moving the band to Vegas indefinitely was solely Giuseppe's idea, as he wanted the band to thrive and gain more popularity in a more commercialized, well-known city. And plus, he wanted to be close with the women, which Sister fully agreed with.

“And that’s all I’ll tell you, because that’s all I know.”

“That's it?" I groaned like a child whose parent finished their bedtime story. "You can't leave me hanging! I want to know more!"

“There are some things that are better to be left forgotten. Let’s just say that the Ghost Project is a shell of what it used to be. Papa is very arrogant and manipulated us into doing his bidding. He thinks he believes in Mammon more than we do. Being affiliates with Mammon means controlling yourself and your inner desires, to tame the beast within. It doesn’t matter if you believe in him, but he does believe in us. Papa doesn’t understand that, but we can’t let him go back to the sect until next year.”

“Papa’s such a creep." I shuddered upon the news of Papa's eventual sacking. That's the day when I'd truly be free. "The way he speaks to me and touches me… I can't stand being around him."

“I know. He will be dead to us soon. Just continue to do what you’ve always been doing and perhaps he’ll stick with Verona and Alessa for a while longer. Besides, we’ll always have each other." Omega reached a hand out to stroke my cheek. "You are the only woman that I have ever loved, Rosalie, and I ensure you I will protect you until the old bastard’s gone.”

“You really mean it?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

I snuggled up against Omega's chest. "Omega, you're too kind to me."

* * *

Since the band wasn’t traveling to Mandalay tonight, it meant extra time for me to spend with Papa in his study, or his vestry, as he called it. Twice a week he brought me here, and nothing was off limits when we were alone together. I did several different things for him – sing his favorite Frank Sinatra songs, dress in ostentatious clothing he bought for me during his Strip outings with the Sisters, and occasionally tell him what the Ghouls have done for and to me. He loved when I told him stories of my favorite sessions, particularly those involving Alpha and Omega, the two roughest Ghouls.

“Omega’s very dominant,” I told him, careful not to spill any specific details of our rendezvous. “He starts gentle, giving my body sweet kisses and caresses. His hands roam down my flesh, and his hands stop right… there.” I sighed, reliving the moment. “Once he takes off, he makes sure I know who’s boss. He smacks my ass hard… his rings sting. Of course, he doesn’t do it to hurt me. He’s very gentle. He’d never think about hurting me…”

"Yes..." Papa sighed, shuddering underneath the layers of his chasuble. My stories turned him on, too, judging by hard he got on my thigh. I must've been doing my courtesan duties to his expectation.

"I still have marks." I lifted up my dress to show the small bruises on my thighs. I wasn't ashamed of them. "I'm his property, so to speak."

"Property is a bit of a tasteless word," Papa remarked. "I prefer...  _harlot_."

"And I'm not ashamed to be one." I smiled through my darkly painted lips. "Just like the great Lilith."

Now, I sat on Papa's lap in his grand armchair of plush red velvet, huddled in his fur coat to keep myself warm from the January chill. Papa kept on running his hand through my hair, and every once in a while he would guide my head onto his shoulder to feel the warmth of my cheek against his shoulder. Even then, his affection was another old trick in the book. I tried to remind myself, "This isn't real," but lately the line between act and reality blurred in my mind. Sometimes, I thought Papa really did love me... but he never would. He only cherished me for bringing what he needed.

“So, my little darling… tell me of some of the hobbies you’ve had in the past.”

"I used to do theatre," I said, the first thing that came to mind.

"Oh!" Papa seemed amused by the fact. "You were an actress?" 

"I was a real triple threat. Singing, dancing, acting. It was a perfect escapism method for the harder times I've had in life."

"And what roles did you have? Any I would know of?"

"Well... I was in Cats, and I was a ballet nymph in A Midsummer Night's Dream. High school productions, mind you, but playing those characters was the time of my life. The thrill of letting myself go and becoming someone else..." I quickly paused. "The thrill of performing was simply exhilarating. Do you ever have that feeling onstage, Papa?"

"Every night I perform, I still do." Papa leaned back in the chair. "Sometimes, I wonder how I got here. Of course, I once served as a cardinal, but the damn Project never realized my caliber of talent. I can sing. I can win over a crowd just as easily as my predecessor did. And I certainly take what I need."

I glanced up at him, hoping the deer-in-the-headlights look in my eyes appeared more out of devotion for him than outright fear of him intentionally turning the tables.

"Of course, Papa!" I chirped. "Hopefully the Project realizes how well you're doing."

"Of course they do, Rosalina. Why do you think they wouldn't believe me?"

 _Don't fuck up, don't fuck up..._ then again, it's not easy to appease a narcissist...

"Because you are the most powerful man the Ghost Project will ever know."

"Indeed, I am." Papa grabbed his nearby goblet and took a sip of red wine. "You know, talent is not a gift all receive. Not all can sing hymns of Satan with ease like I do, not even my predecessor. That old man didn't know what he was doing."

I crawled my fingertips up his chest. "I think there's some other talents of yours that made you famous..."

"Such as?"

 _Your ability to fuck up people's lives._

"Hmm... let's see." I counted on my fingers. "Your charisma, your voice... oh, and of course, your sex appeal!"

"Oh, _cara mia_!" Papa pressed me to his side, slowly running his hand down my back. "Of course I am known for being a ladies' man, but my sex appeal... well, we all know how much some of our worshippers crave the wand."

"And we saw through you what lies beyond," I quoted, as if reciting scripture.

"Most definitely. Now, those theatrical talents you've told me about... especially your singing, since my Ghouls have told me how beautiful your voice is... we must put them to good use! The worshippers could sure use a spectacle of a ritual these days."

I chuckled awkwardly. "Papa, my voice isn't as good as the Ghouls say. I haven't sang since—"

"To Hell with that!" Papa exclaimed with a dramatic wave of his hand. "If you can at least carry out a tune, I will help you attain the best. I shall give you the proper training in voice, if that is what you wish for."

"Really, Papa?" My voice nearly cracked in excitement. Fake or not, I wasn't able to tell, but one thing I could admit was that Papa did have an excellent voice. In 'Secular Haze', his vibrato was to die for, whereas if I tried to sing it myself, I'd sound like a warbling whale. "You'd do that for me?"

"I'd do anything for my little darling.” Papa kissed the nape of my neck. “You are a _cortigiana onesta_ now, Rosalina, the most trusted of courtesans. It is my duty to make you happy, especially since your servitude to the Ghouls is exceeding expectations. Now, we shall plan a performance for the next month—“

"The next _month_?" Voice training took a lot longer than a month, unless you were trained to sing intentionally horrible. "Papa, I don't think it takes so short of a time—“

"All of the focus will be on you, Rosalina."

Papa gestured for me to hop off his lap. Timidly, I obeyed, straightening out the scarlet, sheer nightgown he had me try on earlier.

“Lose yourself.” Papa grabbed me from behind, sliding his knuckles down my cheek. “Lose yourself in what you desire and you’ll have nothing to worry about.” His fingertips traveled down my waist. “You’ve proven yourself worthy of being here, my little darling, and especially worthy of my attention. You are every bit of what the Church has desired.”

“Y-yes, Papa…” I sighed, falling into his embrace like a limp ragdoll. “I… am.”

“Just remember, Rosalina… there is no savior left for you but me. Now that you’ve fully committed yourself into our world of sin, there is no going back. God is dead. There is no more light… only the dark. You have become our Ghuleh, our goddess…”

I reached out a hand to stroke his face, closing my eyes as I inhaled the scent of his Acqua di Gio cologne. Every single damn time Papa tried to seduce me, he succeeded. After all, he had given me everything. I wished it wouldn’t be this way, but what other way was there to keep me in check?

He made the game too hard to play.


	22. The Private and Intimate Life of a Courtesan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A typical day in the life of Rosalina.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the song Rosalie is singing/dancing to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7yONgafz1XA

Here's how my days usually go.

First, since I'm still accustomed to waking up in the morning unlike Papa and the Ghouls, who usually sleep in until around noon, I rise at around eight or nine and stand in front of my window, letting the morning sunlight burn my eyes as I gaze out to the distant canyons, pondering over how my day will go. I think about what Damien could possibly be doing - getting ready for work, perhaps, or watching Portlandia episodes recorded on the DVR with Snowball on his lap and a bottled cappuccino at his side. Maybe he does a little bit of grocery shopping to beat the crowds. Simple morning things that simple people do.

For me, mornings aren't so simple. They are dedicated to ensuring I look and perform my best. I bathe, stretch, and do my makeup - kohl around my eyes and dark red lips has become my makeup style of choice. I find that the more I exaggerate my features, the better I look. I usually just braid my hair into a ponytail, but occasionally I'll wear it down in waves atop my shoulders like a goddess fresh out of a Renaissance painting, the perfect image of someone who's been reborn.

Then, I dress. My entire wardrobe consists of pretty much anything black or sheer - Papa's preference, of course. Unlike the Sisters, who wear either cocktail dresses or their nun attire, I dress as a courtesan would, showing off my body, because that is what I am. To be a Sister of Sin requires sacrifices of the highest caliber and an undying love for Papa. "Someday you will become one," Papa told me once, but I could never find myself becoming a cloistered nun with wickedness in her heart.

Sometimes, Omega stays behind in bed. Morning sex with him is the best - we're both a little groggy, but he still rides me until he fills me up. Otherwise, I'll find him downstairs near the garden of ruins, having a cigarette. Mornings are the only time when he doesn't have Papa hot on his heels. We talk - usually about things we've heard circulating around, or just more about the past, but we have to be careful. A few worshippers do live in the Church as well, performing clergy duties, but I really haven't gotten to know them too well. Better not to know them, I suppose.

From two until seven, I am the Ghouls', and no one else's, unless Papa has scheduled for me to visit him in the vestry. I sit and wait. Some days, I only receive one or two Ghouls. Other days, I receive them all. But they come, one at a time, each requesting certain things. Earth might want a blowjob. Alpha might want 'the full package.' I fully cater to their whims, careful not to show my fear or disgust. Only around Omega am I loose and carefree, not afraid to show my inhibition.

Then, at eight on the dot, we head out to Mandalay Bay, which I've estimated is at least an hour away from the mansion. Yes, Papa brought me to them now. I suppose it was because he feared I'd try and run away if I had the entire mansion to myself. Why not taunt me with the freedom I'll never have by bringing me back to the Strip, close to where I once made my living? Hell, he even had the nerve to dress me up in the cassock and mask of a Nameless Ghoul so that no one recognized me, if anyone was even looking for me, that is. 

One night, as I sat in the back of the tour bus, I could've sworn I caught a glimpse of a billboard with my name and face on it through the small slimmer of window. The word 'MISSING' sat above my head in bold text, emphasizing how lost I really was. Papa must've seen the billboard too, because now, I'm not allowed anywhere near windows, kept in the very back of the tour bus where the pull-out beds are.

The show starts at ten, and since everything is already set up at the House of Blues, all Papa and the Ghouls need to do is sound check and they're good to go. I'm kept in the green room, dressed like a Nameless Ghoul so nobody suspects why a random blonde woman is hanging around or recognizes me from the Missing posters. Papa will come and check up on me every once in a while to make sure I haven't gone anywhere. It's not like I had anywhere else to go, since the techies supervised me as well, and everyone knew how loyal they were to the Church.

The show wraps up at eleven-fifteen and we leave. There's no autograph sessions, no meet and greets. We just pack up and go, still in full costume. A procession of sorts follows us as we return to the mansion for ritual at one. Rituals mostly consist of songs and Papa preaching about Satan and immortality. There isn't a sacrifice or virgin dance every night, contrary to popular belief, and even then, sacrifices are very rare.

Now, in the midst of rituals, sessions, and celebration, I had to worry about singing lessons and rehearsals. Papa was teaching me a song in Italian, 'Senzafine' by Lacuna Coil, a band I've heard of before. I think I might've had one or two of their albums on my phone. Over the past few days, I sang the song over and over again until my throat dried up, so much that I wasn't able to give the Ghouls oral without stopping for a cough. Thankfully for me, this got them to stay away for a bit. Papa needed all the time he could get to groom his new show pony, and he took this new bonus time with stride.

"Stronger, Rosalina!" Papa pounced on me whenever I pronounced words wrong or when I didn't show enough 'theatrical sensuality', as he called it. It's when he wanted me to perform my more provocative dance moves, such as swaying my hips or gyrating a certain way. "Higher, faster! Quickly, with some feeling!"

The Ghouls would attend my rehearsals, observing me dance in his own, unique way. Alpha had a habit of sneaking up behind mid-dance to slap my ass or grab my shoulders, while Air merely watched in silence, nodding to Papa. Omega and Earth applauded every time I finished, giving me hope that I'd do well come my performance.

But Water was the worst offender when it came to watching me dance. He had these perverted ideas that he whispered in Papa's ear as I sang, and of course, any perverted idea was a good one to Papa. That mischievous little bastard.

I got into first position and cleared my throat, waiting for the techie - a blond man with a dark green, long-nosed mask over his face - to start the playback. In the corner of my eye, I saw Water's sash symbol. Who knew what suggestion he'd have today that wouldn't flow well with the choreography.

" _Cinque, sei, sette, otto!_ "

A burst of song filled the atrium as I walked out to my spot on the platform, my scarlet silks wrapped behind me. I spun around and let the Italian lyrics fly loose off my tongue as I posed in a gentle arabesque, stretching out my leg behind me with my arm outstretched to the ceiling. A cramp formed in my back. I haven't posed like this since high school!

Water slightly lifted up his mask to whisper in Papa's ear, his sea green eyes glancing over at me every few seconds. Papa smirked and nodded at whatever Water had to say, taking a sip from his red wine. Oh, he must've had a good one today, judging by Papa's expression.

" _Arresto_." 

The techie stopped the music.

"Water Ghoul," Papa said, his voice echoing throughout the atrium, "I'd like for you to give Rosalina some... pointers for how she should be emoting in her dance. I feel as if her performance is a bit stiff... a bit too stiff for a woman who longs for sin and desire."

He noticed I stopped to listen, and took another sip.

" _Continua_ , Rosalina! _Dall'alto_!"

The music started from the beginning. I did my entrance as usual, but kept my eyes glued on either Papa or the corridor behind his throne as I sang the first verse, posing in my arabesque again. This time, my muscles in my leg grew tense, flaring up in pain.

Mid-twirl, Water stopped me, grabbing me by my waist. He held me to his chest as his hands ran down my waist, pressing his thumbs into the skin of my hips, and tilted my head back to nibble on the soft flesh of my neck. I kept on singing the best I could, but Italian words turned into sighs and moans as I tried to keep up with the recording.

"Keep singing, Rosalina!" Papa shouted. "You're fucking up!"

"Tell that to Water!" I snapped.

Papa's eyes went wide - how dare I talk back to him!

Water knelt down to my waist and hitched up my skirts, parting my bare legs open to tease my clit with his forked tongue. His lips brushed past soft, wet folds as he pushed his tongue deep inside me, searching for the bundle of nerves that would make me react the most. At this point, I gave up singing the song, for this Ghoul's lust was too powerful to sing over. I played my part of a courtesan well enough already here, and to Papa, this all looked like the finest act a courtesan could ever offer. Falling right into the honey trap of the Ghoul in front of me was the performance I played every day, after all.

"W-Water..." My legs trembled. "You're making me... I'm gonna..."

His fingers further teased me, making me release with a loud wail that sounded perfect as my last note of the song.

“That’s it! That’s the desire I want you to emote, Rosalina!” Papa said excitedly. “Tell us your story. Make my worshippers jealous that only the Ghouls are getting what you offer. It doesn’t take them that much to pay for you. You have to make them long for you! Now, show that to me again!”

Water slid his tongue out of me, and my head drooped down in defeat, weakened. In addition to being tiring and dreadfully repetitive, the private and intimate life of a courtesan proved to be soul shattering as well, leaving behind a little glass shard from a crystalline masterpiece.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Papa decided to end the rehearsal, citing “private time with the Sisters” as the reason why he had to leave.

I trudged weakly up the staircase, brushing away hair clinging to my sweaty forehead. I really wasn’t in the mood for a session right now. All I wanted to do was take a bath, sink into the covers of my bed, and perhaps read one of the books I took from Air’s extensive library. Self care happened to be an essential part of my daily duties, to help me rejuvenate from one of my rougher sessions. If I lost myself in a book or sat mindlessly in the tub, letting the warm water calm down my anxiety, then I’d be more relaxed come ritual and celebration. I called these times ‘trinkets of my past’ – not everyone was a courtesan serving a Satanic church. In these times, I felt real, human again, not an object.

Thankfully, my room was not occupied, the scent of my flowery perfume calming my senses. I slipped off my drenched-in-sweat dress and changed into my black silk kimono, the coolness of the silk brushing against my shoulders. I then grabbed my copy of _The Master and Margarita_ and situated myself in an armchair by my window, sitting out in the late afternoon sunlight. I wondered where Omega was. Usually, he’d be rehearsing with the other Ghouls, making sure his melodies sounded perfect for the evening. Other times, he’d be assisting Air with his sermons, essentially serving as the Ghouls’ water boy. None of the Ghouls seemed too fond of Omega, maybe except for Earth, ironically enough. They didn’t spend that much time with him apart from rides to Mandalay and rituals.

“Hey, Rosalina, you in there?” A man with a thinly accented voice called for me, knocking my door. “I’ve got something for you.”

_Special._

“Is it spiked wine again?” I retorted, rising from my chair to open the door. Special had become my confidant of sorts, another Nameless Ghoul to talk to whenever the others were busy. His black mesh-covered eyes, or lack thereof, still managed to startle me, but with time I’ve gotten used to them.

“Nope, just a letter,” Special replied nonchalantly as he strode into the room, a thin sheet of rolled-up parchment in his hands.

“Oh, good!” Lowering my voice, I added, “Or maybe that’s a bad thing. Maybe my eviction notice finally arrived.”

Special’s head panned around the room like an owl’s, taking note of my unmade bed that looked more like a hurricane swept in here and damaged everything. I had a rather rocky session with Alpha this morning, and that Ghoul knew his way around when it came to rough sex. Hell, he made a crack form in the bed frame from his aggressive thrusts alone.

“What happened in here?” Special asked.

“Another session. I didn’t get the chance to make my bed, so sorry for the untidiness. Alpha’s like a primitive animal. He’s so wild!”

Special nodded. “He’s always been like that. I’ve got to say, I haven’t gotten the chance to be acquainted with him all that well. But I heard the ladies tend to flock to him at celebration.”

“Better them than me.” I chuckled. “I think I’ve still got a hickey from him somewhere…”

“Oh, you might want to read this.” Special slipped the parchment in my hand. “It’s a letter from Papa. A special one, I might add.”

“Let me guess, it’s more rehearsal notes he didn’t bother telling me,” I remarked as I unraveled the paper. A few words scrawling in a neat, black calligraphy greeted me.

_Meet me in the garden of ruins at three o’clock tomorrow afternoon, mi principessa._

_Yours, E._

“Why would Papa want to see me in the garden?” I murmured, setting the note down on my bed. A dreadful ache formed in the pit of my stomach, much like when Papa first visited me in this very room months ago. “I hope it’s not anything bad.”

“I can give you a hint,” Special offered. “Our chauffeur may possibly be aiding you in your escape soon.”

“Really?!” I nearly shouted. The thought of escaping, while dying down slightly because of my love for Omega, was still fresh in my mind. There were so many days I could endure being a courtesan without missing Damien and my family and even working for Rock Uncovered.

"Shh, not so loud!" Special admonished, holding up his hands. "But yes, I've talked to Martin. I don't want to reveal too much yet, but expect a trip to the Strip in the next few days. It's the only way we can execute this without our cover being blown."

"Oh, Special, thank you!" I brought the anonymous Ghoul into a tight hug, one he wasn't expecting by his gasp for air. "I mean, I'd like to stay here, but... I can't even begin to describe how much I've been played here. This isn't a lifestyle meant for me. It may be someone else's, but not mine."

"Are you sure, though? I see the way you look at Brother Quintessence at the rituals."

"He's my favorite client," I said a bit too quickly. I didn't want anyone else to know of my relationship with Omega just yet, if at all. "He, um... he really likes to play the dominant one, you know? Those rings of his can sting.” I changed the topic. “How come you don’t stop by here, Special? I mean, you’re a Nameless Ghoul too. I’m open to whatever you’d like.”

“Clergy duties,” Special simply replied, “loads of them. I’ve got to set up rituals, file Papa’s taxes, answer Papa’s fanmail… and you know how long that takes. Which, speaking of, I’ve got to go do that right now. Papa received a rather large package recently and I’m certainly hoping it’s not anything suspicious. I’ll see you at ritual, okay?”

Special turned to leave, but I stopped him in his tracks, taking his shoulder in my hand.

"Special? I just wanted to say I'm sorry for being so intrusive the night of the interview. I didn't mean to divulge in the Ghost Project's secrets too deeply. I understand why everything’s got to be kept hidden now.”

"I... I'm not the one you should be telling that to, Rosalina,” Special said uneasily. “Papa may want to hear those words more than I do. Besides, I've accepted your apology a long time ago. And so have the rest of the Ghouls. They told me."

"They... did?" And I thought only Omega had my back.

"They've gotten used to you, Rosalina. Normally the Ghouls aren't very kind to outsiders. It's once they get to know them a bit better do they loosen up... which I'll admit, you've done a very good job. Courtesans don't seem to last too long here."

Special turned back to leave.

"Wait!" I called out for him, holding the edge of the door in my hand. "What do you mean?"

Just as always, whenever I needed an answer for something cryptic Special had said, he disappeared into thin air.

“Sneaky bastard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> 'cinque...' - Papa counts down from 'five, six, seven, eight'  
> 'arresto' - 'stop'  
> 'continua' - 'continue'  
> 'dall'alto' - 'from the top'
> 
> 4/19/18: If you've read this story before, you'll notice that I cut out the Alpha/Rosalie/Water scene. I really wasn't fond of the way this scene played out, so I've removed it for the time being. But who knows! It might be back one day...


	23. Starring Role

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosalie is offered another role in the Church.

Although the mansion was located right near the heart of the Nevada desert, Earth maintained a greenhouse tucked away in the back of the woods. Everyone called it the garden of ruins, for the garden was that of one you could find in a haunted house, decades old and decaying. Dark roses sprawled over metal latticework, and water streamed down from Baphomet’s hands carved of black stone. Tears of blood streamed down the white cheeks of angels situated next to stone pillars, weeping at the loss of innocence they once personified. Worshippers came here often to study their sermon texts or to gossip about the clergy, hidden from the eagle-eared Sisters of Sin. Even the worshippers kept their opinions hidden, for who knew what would happen if they bad-mouthed their so-called ‘saviors’.

Today’s attire consisted of a long-sleeved dress of black velvet and a matching veil. I tended to dress fancily whenever I visited the gardens, to try and exemplify my status of being a _cortigiana onesta_. Garden visits were some of the only public appearances I made. Some worshippers even recognized me from my initiation ceremony, begging me to tell the story of how Papa recruited me and how it felt to lay upon the altar bed, blood clinging to my flesh. I had to tell them the story with rapt concentration – “It was the most magical moment of my entire life. Someday, it may happen to you, too.”

After shading my eyelids with kohl, I admired my image in the mirror, smoothing out my dress as I ran my hands down my waist. My figure had gotten a little wider lately, but my recent appetite for lamb and venison may have been to blame. The vegetarian relapsed to eating meat again? Omega nearly freaked out when I told him, but I quickly shrugged it off. Sometimes I craved meat for no real reason.

Then, I situated my Grucifix in between my breasts, gently running my fingers over the silver chain. Today, Omega was assisting Air with training new initiatives that arrived yesterday night. Papa discussed sending out what he called 'initiatives' at an earlier clergy meeting to recruit new worshippers outside of the rituals.

"The Ghost Project must use whatever means possible to convert more persons," Papa read from Sister Imperator's note. "You must be more aggressive." He set the paper down on his pulpit and chuckled. "As if I haven't been already."

I wasn't quite sure if Omega even liked his given role, but it seemed to be eating away his time. At least he was doing something. The devotees, including the Sisters, would always talk shit about him behind his back, calling him "the fucking asshole who never seems to do anything of importance around here", among other things. Sometimes, I thought I was the only one who still believed in Omega and what he was trying to do, make others feel welcome. 

I slowly made my way out through the abbey and to the courtyard, muttering my mantra of being perky, compliant, and submissive under my breath. I never fucked up my act, but around Papa I had to remind myself not to say anything that would land me in hot water. Anything about Rock Uncovered, or Damien, or pretty much any part of my past was off limits. I was not Rosalie Hammond, the independent reporter who loved playing beer pong with her boyfriend and sarcastically making comments about politics. Here, I was only Rosalina, the dutiful courtesan of the Church of Ghost and potential walking womb for the Ghost Project, an inkling of the woman I used to be.

Papa waited in the gazebo, dressed in that fur coat and a black fedora like a rich pimp. It had taken me a _very_ long time to get used to seeing Papa without his greasepaint and full costume. He looked old enough to be my father. I wouldn't exactly call Papa my sugar daddy - hell no, I couldn't, since I wasn't like Verona and Alessa, kissing his ass every five minutes - but with everything he's done for me, I felt like I was obligated to give him the title.

" _Buon pomeriggio, principessa!_ " 

"Good afternoon to you too, Papa."

I held back a small grimace when Papa took my hand and kissed it, his mustache brushing against the top of my hand. I pretended to blush over his affection, giggling like some overly excited fangirl as he took my hand and ushered me over to a bench next to the Baphomet fountain.

"Rosalina, you have been here for three months now. Quite a lot has happened since your first ritual. You have changed beautifully before my eyes. Any trace of that timid girl locked up in Pandora's box has vanished. Now, I see the fire in your eyes, the lust in your soul. You have fully ignited."

Oh, great, more of the cheese.

“There’s no need to be poetic, Papa!”

Papa chuckled. “But I love spouting my artistic bouts of wisdom upon you! You seem to enjoy what I tell you!”

I fought against the urge to blush again, but I failed, my cheeks burning pink. It made my act more genuine, in fact.

Papa narrowed his sunglasses down to the crooked bridge of his nose. His mismatched eyes gave him a very otherworldly appearance, a nicely dressed gentleman sent straight from the bowels of Hell to do some deals with the Devil.

“Now, here is what I wanted to ask you. Are you happy here, Rosalina?”

“Papa, why would you ask such a thing?" I scoffed, pretending to be offended by his question that I knew was a spot check, to try and make me slip. "I’m most definitely happy here! Look where I am compared to the months that passed.”

The few things that really made me happy were things Papa would kill me for.

“I’ve made new friends, learned more about the dark side of life and the Infernal Majesty’s rule… discovered things I would’ve never found out if it weren't for your Ghouls!"

"Speaking of my Ghouls, how have my boys been treating you?" Papa's voice slid in curiosity. "They haven't been... ah... too hard with you, have they?"

"No, not at all!" Really, I wanted to shout, 'They fuck me almost every single day and never do anything for me in return!' "Your Ghouls have been ravishing me like the Zombie Queen I am. Though, I will admit, sometimes I need a break from my duties. I'm not sure about you, but being akin to a hooker gets old."

Papa's eyes hardened without a single word.

_Shit._

"I'm sorry, Papa," I said meekly, lowering my head. I recalled what Special told me yesterday, that Papa wanted to hear me apologize for everything more than anyone else here. "I shouldn't have said that. I'm still so grateful that you allowed me to be the Ghouls' courtesan, even after I defied the Church."

"Look up, dove." Papa brought his fingers under my chin to lift my head up. "I would be able to grant that wish for you, if that is what you want. Your dedication has made me so proud that I must give you something special in return!"

"You'd really be able to do that, Papa?" The light shining in my eyes was indeed genuine, not formed from my act, but by the increasing hope that after all of this, I'd finally be able to go home and forget everything.

"You seem to forget that I have all the power in this Church, Rosalina. All I need is permission from Sister Imperator and I can take you anywhere you desire. That's not to say I haven't asked her already..."

"What are you trying to insinuate?"

Papa stared me dead in the eyes and smirked. "I have planned quite the Strip excursion for us. We depart tomorrow afternoon."

"Oh, wow!" The light in my eyes dimmed. I hoped Papa couldn't see. Didn't the Strip get too schmaltzy and old after a while, anyway? "I've never seen the Strip from a rock star's eyes before!"

"And now you will! I figured your life here has been rather dark and dreary, so we should put a little more light into it... lights of neon! Of course, I have another reason why I'm treating you with such an excursion, but you'll find out tonight!"

"Papa, you know how much I hate when you keep secrets from me." I batted my eyelashes like my Sisters did whenever they begged Papa for something.

"But I love teasing you!" Papa said, lightly tapping on my nose with his finger. "Ah, well, if you insist. I don't even have the damn ring with me."

_Ring?!_

“Are you…” 

Papa removed his fedora and bent down on one knee, taking my hand in his.

"Rosalina, I want you to be my wife." There was genuine sincerity in his voice. If he was faking it, he did a very good job at sounding convincing. "I may be close to death, but I want to live vicariously one last time through you. Indeed, your looks entranced me, yet it was your fiery wit and passion that truly won me over. You make me feel young again, Rosalina. You make the blood in my old veins rush with euphoria. I promise to give you anything it is you desire, but it won't matter much... you'd only be spoiling me with your presence alone. I have shown you the way to your destiny, and now, I would love for you to show me mine."

“I…” I let out a nervous chuckle that would surely turn into a full laugh if I didn't suppress my voice enough. The monster actually had the nerve to _propose_? “I… I don’t know what to say, Papa.”

“Please, marry me.” Papa squeezed my hand a bit too tightly, a sign that if I didn't say yes I'd probably be hanging in the cellar again. “I’ll give you the love you’ve never had, not even the kind that my Ghouls or even that boy Damien have given you.”

How dare he bring up Damien? Our love was genuine. We confided in each other, did things together, spilled out our secrets... none of which I had done with Papa. He humiliated me and touched me in places I didn't want him to touch and always put me on a pedestal compared to everybody else. How could I ever love a monster like him?

Yet, I kept up my act of being the poor, defenseless courtesan who saw her new life as an escape from the old.

“i can't believe you actually want to marry me," I said sheepishly. "All I am is a whore that goes around fucking your Ghouls. Yet, you see me as something more. When we have our talks, you take the time to stop and remember everything. I think…”

“You think  _what_?” Papa's voice went narrow, a sign that he wanted an answer immediately.

"I think... maybe you do love me, Papa." Was I speaking from my mind or from my heart? My sight was starting to become blurry and hazy, like I was seeing double, and my grip on my memories started to fade. This man had hurt me before? He wouldn't have the nerve! "You had the heart to accept my sacrifice. Not a lot of people are as forgiving as you. You let me stay alive! Now, look what you've done for me. You've made me feel the most loved I've ever been."

“Then what is your answer, my little darling?”

The sound of rushing water from Baphomet's fountain put my mind at a standstill, helping me concentrate on what move needed to be. The game had gotten too dangerous - one slip and I may fall. This was the only way I could stay alive in this mad world.

"I..." I stared right into his eyes. “My answer is yes, Papa. I’ll marry you.”

Papa cupped my cheek and pulled me in for a kiss. Although his proposal sounded sincere, his kiss was still cold and distant, unloving. Sometimes, I needed to remind myself that Papa was playing a game against me, too. I was only here for one purpose, to serve his Nameless Ghouls in exchange for Damien's safety. There was one more reason too, but in recent times it seemed to have slipped from my mind.

“I am so glad you accepted my proposal, my Ghuleh,” Papa whispered once our lips parted. “Just wait until we tell the boys!”

“But what about Verona and Alessa?” Alessa would probably want to kill me now that I was being forced to marry the only person that she cared about. “My Sisters would be so broken-hearted. They love you so much. Surely you wouldn’t want to leave them alone after all they've done for you.”

“Oh, they’ll understand. I’m afraid they’re getting rather tiresome, anyway. I’ve been with them for so long that we all ought to have a change. Besides, my love for you is strong, Rosalina. Those girls know nothing of true love, and they only want to please me. It is to the point where I am annoyed by the sight of them! But you, Rosalina… you are worthy of _all_  my attention.”

“Aren't I already?” I said airily after a quick hesitance. “I can’t wait to tell the Ghouls and the worshippers tonight. Just think, our wedding…” I giggled and spun in a playful circle to keep the act going, continuing to play the part of the dense ingenue. “I’m marrying one of the most famous stars of the rock industry as we know it! One of my wildest dreams is coming true!”

Papa stopped me, placing a hand on my shoulder. “As am I, my little darling. Think of this little trip as your… ah…  _special treat_  before our marriage. An early honeymoon, if you will. There will be no time for anything extravagant like this once we’re married, as I’m afraid our Infernal Majesty has many things scheduled for us by then. It will be just you and me, together… none of the boys, and none of the Sisters… just the two of us.”

The thought of being alone with Papa already scared the shit out of me, but being alone with him away from the Church? I didn't even want to think of what he could possibly do to me out of shot of the congregation, without the strict fornication rules put into place. Of course, I had no choice but to give in.

“Which hotel are we going to stay in, Papa? The Bellagio? The Luxor?"

“Oh, you silly impatient girl!” Papa chuckled, resting a hand on my shoulder. “Sometimes, I have to keep things a surprise for you! You must learn to abide by the power of anticipation! Now go, prepare yourself for the dress rehearsal. I want you to look and sound your best!”

I kissed Papa’s forehead and made my way out of the courtyard, continuing to giggle as if the marriage remained the only thing on my mind. _I’m getting married to a man who continues to break and abuse me!_ I thought of the worshippers utterly in love with Papa and how they’d react. Priests couldn’t marry, but in the Church of Ghost, anything could happen, for we were taught that the taboo was perfectly acceptable. A priest could marry and a nun could carry. Unlike the other religions, they were no restrictions.

Once I was within reasonable distance away from Papa, my plastered smile fell, giving me the chance to rest my cheeks. Papa still felt the need to watch over my every move, but I knew that in his own, twisted way, he indeed loved me. He remained obsessed with the idea of a woman who arrived to his Church meek and defenseless, clueless as to how the world worked. Once she was given everything her heart desired and cherished by the people willing to help her flourish, her heart became dark and vain, corrupted by nothing but thoughts of the pleasures of the flesh. As Papa’s little darling, I had to obey his every beck and call, unless I wanted to find myself hanging in the basement and tortured once more.

Love is not something to be created out of fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> 'buon pomeriggio, principessa' - 'good afternoon, princess'


	24. Mirrors Fade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omega warns Rosalie of an incoming threat.

“Psst, Rosalie!”

A raspy voice stopped me in my tracks. Out of all the people in this Church, there was only one who called me by my gentile name… someone I loved dearly.

“Omega?” I looked all over the foggy avenue of winged statues, but found nobody. “Is my mind playing tricks on me again?”

Someone bumped into me from behind, his strong arms wrapping around my middle.

“Holy shit!” I quickly turned around and met the gaze of my Ghoulish lover, his arms outstretched for a hug. “Oh, Omega, I’ve missed you so much!”

“Me too, _min kärlek_ ,” Omega said reassuringly as I kissed the jutting upper lip of his mask. “I apologize if I haven’t been able to spend as much time with you as I would’ve liked. Air’s had me busy with these damn sermons. You’d be surprised how intensive he gets.”

I kissed the jutting upper lip of his mask. “I should be the one that’s apologizing. Papa’s working me like crazy with this dance he’s having me do. That, and your brothers keep coming to me! Why do they’ve got to be so horny? It’s starting to take a toll.”

“Well, at least in this Church of anonymous souls, you still know how to love the one with the most character!”

I giggled. “A little pretentious for you to say, isn’t it?”

“Me, pretentious?” Omega dramatically shook his head.  “Not a chance in hell.”

“Come on, let’s go talk somewhere away from him.” I pointed to the gazebo, where strangely enough Papa still sat, looking out into the distance, lost in thought. “There’s a bunch of things I need to tell you.”

I took Omega’s hand and led him to an extension of the courtyard where roses coiled around cracked colonnades and a giant statue of Baphomet towered over us, surrounded by children gazing up in awe. The scent of dead flowers calmed my nerves, distracting me from the scent of Papa’s spicy cologne that still permeated in my nose. If it weren’t for all the intentional decay and unkempt gardening, I’d feel like I wasn’t even in the Church’s captivity, just a messy garden with slivers of beauty. I really did feel like the old Rosalie now – always curious, a bit skeptical, but finding peace wherever it lingered.

I wiped down the droplets of water on the bench with my veil so that Omega and I could sit down.

“So, did you happen to overhear the news?”

"I did," Omega replied shakily. "Papa wants to _marry_ you now?"

"Unfortunately. There's no way I can back out unless I, you know, die."

"But you said my brothers have been rough with you?" Omega questioned further, tilting his head to the side. "Do you feel... sick at all? Any nausea?"

"I feel a bit queasy sometimes, but it's not like I'm going to throw up or anything."

“Rosalie, this could be serious. Do you remember when I told you about the prophecy of the Prime Mover?"

I slowly nodded, arching my back against the stony wall behind me. The Rosemary’s Baby plot, as Omega and I called it, was something I’ve been forced to push back in my mind for a while. I didn’t like consistently thinking about my eventual death every waking minute.

"I hate to tell you this, but the more convincing you are with kissing Papa's ass, the more Papa is going to try and get you to break your act. The marriage proposal is one thing. That just goes to show how impatient he is. But who knows what could come out of this in the next few weeks?"

Omega lowered his voice as a group of devotees followed Papa down the nearby pathway, squealing to themselves. 

"Like what?" I asked once the devotees disappeared.

“You might be pregnant right now."

"No way!” Sometimes, I forgot how quickly time passed. Just three months ago, Omega had warned me about my doomed fate of being a walking womb. “It's too soon!"

“You might be, and there’s no way we can find out for certain unless we ask Papa to bring in somebody. And even then, he’s going to get suspicious. He's always the first to find out everything."

“Wait…” My voice trailed off, lost in thought. “You know how the old fuck’s taking me to the Strip tomorrow?”

“That part I didn’t hear. He got permission to travel?"

“Yeah, to celebrate our engagement. I could probably sneak away from him and get a pregnancy test from Walgreens. That's a drugstore, in case you didn't know. It's our only way of finding out whether or not I’m pregnant without Papa finding out too.”

Omega sighed. "Let me tell you something, Rosalie. None of us Ghouls can stand Papa for much longer. He doesn't give a shit about anyone but himself. You know... us Ghouls met up last night and talked about how much he's abused his power with this Prime Mover prophecy of his. We even talked about you."

My heart began to pound. "What did the others say about me?"

"That you don't deserve to be treated like this, us coming to your room to fuck around with you until you conceive. It's not healthy and quite frankly, we're sick of it. We had a code when we became Nameless Ghouls that's oftentimes gone ignored. It's time to reinstate it not just for us, but for our future generation."

"Now that's the Omega I like to hear." I smiled proudly. "You've always stood up for what you believe in."

"Yeah, but it's not going to be that easy. Sister never listens to us, so it's not like we have anyone to express our thoughts to. Papa is the reason why we're forced to comply with the Ghost Project's changes. Everything is always 'Satan this' or 'Satan that.' We are not all about Satan worshipping. We are about bringing happiness to the world, the unfortunate souls who need it. We want to make people feel good about themselves, to not be ashamed of dabbling with the dark. And Papa never understood any of that."

“So how are you going to tell him what you guys feel?"

Omega cleared his throat. “We're going to send him right to his grave."

"W-what?" I gasped. "Y-you can't just do that!"

"But say you are pregnant and he tries to hurt you. Even when he goes back to serving as a cardinal he can hunt us down and try and put his prophecy into order. It's practically written law in the Ghost Project now. So, after Papa serves his term, we're going to kill him. It's the only way to keep everyone safe, especially you."

"Isn't it taboo to murder a Papa? After everything he's done for the band, it's not right to kill him!"

Omega's head shoot up, his eyes widening.

"So you're siding with him?"

"No! I understand why you guys feel the way you do about Papa, but..." I took a deep breath. "Papa saved me, Omega. If he hadn’t given me the choice to stay here, then I would’ve been dead. I would’ve never met you if he wasn’t so kind to let me stay here.”

“Rosalie, please don’t say those things...” The frustration in Omega's voice rose to an almost frightening level. “Please don’t tell me he’s been—“

“What I’m trying to say is if I do marry Papa, I’d be saving your life! I don't want you, or any of the other Ghouls, or anybody to suffer because of me! Papa’s given me everything, and I have to repay him.”

“By letting him hurt you and make us fuck around with you until you get pregnant with the Antichrist? Rosalie, I’ve told you this before, but he doesn’t love you! He’s only trying to use you! Why do you think he’s making you marry him?"

I raised my voice. "Because he wants to provide for me, Omega!" 

“ _Detta är skitsnack!"_ Omega grabbed onto my shoulders as if to shake me out of a trance. "The fuck’s taken over your mind so you forget everything I told you! Fame is something that’ll easily corrupt you, Rosalie, and it isn’t something you should be playing around with! Why do you think I regret so much of my life? I was a fool! I don’t want you heading the same path I did, it’ll kill you!”

"I'm sorry..." Hot, ashamed tears streamed down my cheeks. “I don't know what's right and what's wrong anymore, Omega! One minute I want to maul Papa to death, and then the next I feel like I'm in love with him... I don't know what to do anymore!"

Omega wrapped his arms around me as I sobbed into his shoulder.

“Shh, I’m sorry I yelled at you like that. I don’t want you falling under Papa's spell too, like everyone else here. It would only be more chaos for all the parties involved. Please, Rosalie, I’ve fought so hard for you. We’ve got to keep fighting if we want to get rid of Papa. You get what I’m saying?”

I nodded Omega wiped away my tears with his thumb and pulled me into his side for a hug, rubbing his hand down my back. His caress reminded me of how protective he was, how he wouldn't let anyone, including Papa, hurt me. He stood by my side when I was alone at rituals, danced with me at celebration despite his shyness, and always took me out when I was cooped up in this gilded birdcage.

My mind kept on going back and forth, split between the seductive and suave Papa and the protective and kind Omega. Both had their own reasons as to why they loved me and wanted to protect me, but which one was right?

Who could I even trust anymore?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> 'min kärlek' - 'my love'  
> 'detta är skitsnack' - 'this is bullshit'


	25. Smokey Taboo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosalie visits the Air Ghoul. Smut!

**FEBRUARY 2014**

**A WEEK LATER**

" _Non c'è vita senza me!_ "

I swept into my final pose on the floor, with one arm and leg raised up to the ceiling. The final rehearsal had gone without a hitch so far. Papa watched me dance with lust sparkling bright in his eyes, still giddy that I agreed to marry him and allow the Rosemary's Baby plot to proceed. He crooned continuously that I danced like Ghuleh had risen from her grave, although with far less rotting flesh and exposed bone.

"Ghuleh is the Church's goddess of nostalgia," Omega informed me one night, "the kind of goddess whose power is so strong that she makes grown men weep. The black light seduced them, leading them to this kind of life that with time becomes rigid, stiff, and stale."

I thought about what occupations the Ghouls might’ve had when they were human. I envisioned Air to be a music teacher, perhaps teaching innocent children their scales and arpeggios. Maybe Earth sold cars in addition to writing music, and Alpha fixed computers. I even thought about Papa - who was he before he became a priest dedicated to preaching about a demon? He lived a very rich life in Italy before traveling to Sweden and joining the Ghost Project, he once told me during one of our sessions. And what about Verona and Alessa? How did they live before becoming devoted to Papa?

I couldn't think of anyone here as people first. They were monsters now, all of them, serving as pawns to herald a great evil. No matter how often the Ghouls ravished me or Papa seduced me, I couldn't look past their gruesome appearances and see inside their hearts. 

The music stopped.

Papa rose from his throne to approach the Ghoul who observed my final rehearsal - Air, the creepiest Ghoul of them all. He rarely requested my services, and when he did, I didn't spend much time with him. Aside from some light foreplay and oral, nothing major occurred between us. A gut feeling inside me reassured me that at least it was better than Alpha and his unexpected visits.

"She's still nervous. Alleviate her stage fright for me, Brother Air."

It appeared that I'd be having a last-minute session with the Ghoul I feared most.

Air silently offered me his arm. I had no choice but to take it. As he escorted me to his bedchamber - he lived in the darkest, farthest corner of the mansion, go figure - I thought worriedly of whatever would be in store for me. The virgins he fucked at celebration were always sworn to secrecy as to how their time with him went. Even as a courtesan, when I tried to talk them, they never divulged details, instead looking at me with terror in their eyes. With his eerie, lingering gaze, it was best for me to stay away from Air, the most unpredictable of Ghouls.

Air's residence reminded me of a bedroom you'd see described in one of Poe's short stories, neat and orderly with a foreboding touch. Shelves of leather-bound volumes towered over me like the hotels I saw on my commute through the Strip, while a fresh fire roared in the fireplace in the corner of the room. The cold nipped at my bare ankles, threatening me with the horrors I would soon confront.

Air lit some Nag Champa incense and put on a vinyl record of classical piano music I recognized as a Debussy piece - the Nocturnes, beginning with part one, _Nuages_ , Clouds, masses of dark air lingering in the sky. He created the perfect horror movie atmosphere just with his theatrics alone. Laughable, almost, but I dare not laugh.

I scurried over to a corner of the room, standing behind a red, stained glass window bathing me in a bloody light. I kept my eyes on the floor as I heard Air turn from his record player and walk toward me, his footsteps heavy. The only sounds to comfort me were the piano prelude and the Ghoul's clipped, heavy breathing, like billowing steam coming out of his mask.

I accidentally looked up.

Air backed me into the stony wall, pressing his palms into my shoulders. 

"What are you looking at, girl?" Air’s voice was so raspy that I could almost never decipher what he said half the time. I wondered how his students were able to understand him during his lengthy sermons.

"I'm waiting for you to start, Air," I said nervously, fighting back my frightened assumptions. 

"No, girl, I am not  _Air_  when we are alone. I am your  _master_. You are to obey my every command from here on out. Do you understand, pet?"

"Yes, master. I..." I swallowed down my fear with a loud gulp. "I forgot to ask you, master, how would you like your pleasure today?"

"Did you mishear me, pet?  _I_  am the one giving you commands." He let his hand fall atop my cheek, staring up at me with his dark eyes. "I am not a lover like my brothers are. I prefer my pleasure... handed over to me."

I straightened my posture as Air - my master, I was forced to call him now - removed my Grucifix necklace and wrapped a leather leash around my neck. He brushed away strands of my hair and placed his lips on the nape of my neck, ghosting the skin. His lips were parched and dry - the man needed a damn drink, but who knew if he preferred blood over water.

"Listen to your heart beating. Steady, fast... like a raging war drum, waiting for the moment when the sacrifice is cut..."

The sound of fabric being torn alerted me to just how exactly this session would go.

My black dress clung to my body in nothing but wispy strands, tendrils of shadow around a pale moon.

I fell to my knees as Air unbuttoned his cassock and freed his thick cock, staring right into my eyes without any remorse the entire time.

"Go ahead, pet. You know what to do."

"No!" I said in one breath. "I won't let you talk to me that way!"

Air pulled my hair, bringing my head closer to him. I kept my lips firmly pressed, turning away from his cock. At least give me some of the power and we'd be settled. Sooner or later, I needed to prove to the Ghouls that I am not a plaything, a doll to be thrown around and messed up. Submissiveness fades away after a certain length of time. Traumatizing as my time in the Church of Ghost may have been, with the familiarity of my prison came the ability to work around the power of the people who controlled it.

Now was really my time to shine.

"You must miss the cellar." Air's foot nearly stomped on my hand. "Do I need to bring you there again? Did you forget the lesson you learned?"

"Why would I?" I ripped off another section of my dress and showed him the scars cutting right across my stomach. "I've still got the battle scars to prove it."

A flash of fire raged in Air's dark eyes.

"And have you learned how to take pain well?"

"I figured I would've. It's what I've been doing since October."

"Clever girl." Air brought a hand underneath his Bauta mask to stroke his chin. "You're smarter than I thought, Rosalina... and I know you've been playing the game so well."

I chuckled. "What game, Air? The game where one person decides to completely take over the other, mind and body and soul? That's not a very fair game, now is it?"

The flames in the fireplace crackled, the light reflecting the copper color of his eyes.

"It's not the way I play it to my liking."

_But it is for me._

"How about I strike you a bargain, Air?" I regained my balance and stood on my knees, inching my head closer to his thickening cock. "I'll give you what you want, but you've got to give me something in return."

Air scoffed. "Such as?"

I smirked. "Some... information. I've heard the others talk about your... mystical abilities, so to speak. They say you have many talents to your title. You read tea leaves, tarot cards, palm lines... sometimes even minds." I shifted to a more petulant tone of voice. "I'll tell you, I'm clueless as to what my destiny truly is around here. I need someone to show me, and you'd be the perfect Ghoul to do so."

"Nonsense, girl. You should be aware of what lies before you. You are our courtesan, and you shall marry Papa on Walpurgisnacht." He paused. "But there is something else... something more... dire that lays beyond."

"Yes..." I looked up at him as I took his cock in my hand, slowly moving my hand back and forth. "Tell me, Air. I need to know."

Air closed his eyes and brought a hand to the back of my head. I wrapped my hand around one of his legs as he guided my head closer to his cock, bringing his soft tip right against my lips. This time, I didn't refuse him. As a courtesan, I didn't just play Papa's game, but the Ghouls' as well. If I gave them what they wanted, then I'd receive my prize as well. This thought inspired me every day, giving me the slightest bit of hope that I'd get what I needed.

"Your fate is... meddled. Right now, as it stands, it is like a microcosm, smaller than what shall be revealed to you in time."

"Mhm..." I slid my wet tongue against the base of his shaft. He visibly shuddered underneath me, a reassurance that I was doing my job well.

"Like I have told you before, you have a specific task to carry out for our unholy master. I never meant you becoming our courtesan... that was a decision of your own free will. I spoke of something more... significant. In fact, what you shall bring to us is manifesting inside you right this moment."

I closed my lips around his length and swirled my tongue around his tip, teasing the underside briefly. My teeth nearly grazed against his cock as I began to slowly take him in my mouth, moving my lips from the head to the shaft, diligently but harshly, just as a good courtesan would.

"You may never come to accept who you are to us. We see you more than just a courtesan, you know. Papa's always made us believe that we are cold, heartless creatures, when really we can be the opposite. We have helped you thrive here, Rosalina."

I moaned around his cock as he slowly started to thrust with a grunt, picking up speed rather quickly. Drops of salty liquid landed on my tongue.

"It is practically our undying duty to protect the catalyst of what shall bring us all honor and respect to the Ghost Project. Nameless Ghouls aren't very well respected in these parts... but what you will bring to us shall make Sister Imperator think otherwise."

My eyes watered and I began to gag as his cock touched the back of my throat. At once, I felt sick to my stomach - not in a disgusted sort of way, being accustomed to this part of the job, but in a queasy, unsettling way, as if something in my stomach stirred within me. It must've been the roast at celebration not settling right.

"You're hiding something, aren't you, Rosalina?"

I swallowed down whatever was left and cleared my throat.

"No!" I said too quickly. "Why would I be hiding anything from anyone?"

Air shook his head.

"You are hiding something. Not just from me, but the entire clergy. I happen to know of your relationship with Omega, as some reliable sources have informed me. Do you think you can establish a relationship without anyone noticing?"

"Me, with Omega?" I masked my shock with a loud cackle. "Not in a million years! I don't know him that well aside from our sessions."

"Enough." Air silenced me with his hand. "You aren't doing well with playing Papa's game as you might think you are, Rosalina. He may not know everything you're up to behind his back, but mark my words, he will find out."

"H-how did you..." My skin paled at the thought. Papa knew absolutely nothing about my love for Omega, but what if he did find out? "How did you know I'm playing?"

"I can read it in your eyes. Around us other Ghouls, they are flat, dull, devoid of anything. But around him? Bright, full of life and admiration. It is night and day difference. You've fallen in love with him, and you know that will kill you."

"No!" I grabbed onto Air's pellegrina. "Please, don't tell anybody! Please! Omega is just my friend!"

"I will not punish you." Oh, thank God. "But I recommend when you and Papa depart tomorrow, you leave him and go back to your old life. It's simple, really. Pretend this never happened to you."

"It wouldn't be that easy." Tears prickled in my eyes. For so long, I dreamed of freedom and home and Damien, but how long would the recovery last? Studies showed that those released from their kidnappers usually tend to return to them. In a way, they viewed their kidnapper's obsession as love.

But Omega really loved me. And so did Damien, but what if he discovered my tryst? He'd never see me the same way!

"I understand that. But for your safety, you have to leave us behind."

"No, I can't!" I needed to keep up my act. Papa trusted Air more than any other Ghoul. Anything I said now could get back to him. "This band saved me. What about Papa? I can't leave Papa behind after all he's done for me. He saved me, Air! I have to stay."

"There is no need to lie, Rosalina. I know just how much you detest Papa. Your love for Omega is strong, I can sense it. And pretty soon, it will destroy you. The longer you stay with us, the stronger Papa will be. Your life as it stands is at stake. You would be saving Omega’s life if you leave. The boy has received enough torment, and certainly does not need anymore. Even the child you carry in your womb is better off away from this Church.”

“ _Child?_ ”

Air lifted up the skirt of my dress and placed his cold hand on my stomach. After leaving it there for about five seconds, he looked up at me, his eyes beady.

“You’re a month along.”


	26. Migrations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After finding out a crucial piece of news, Rosalie struggles to keep a hold of her mind.

_You’re a month along._

“No…” My body trembled. Did this Ghoul have the nerve to lie, or worse, tell me the truth? Air’s prophecies were usually correct. “You’re lying. Please! Please tell me you’re lying!”

Air slowly shook his head. “You carry life inside you, Rosalina, and that is all I can tell you. For your safety.”

“Fuck you!”

I drove my knee right into Air’s groin and rushed out of his bedchamber, my shadowy tendrils of dress following behind me. I held back my tears, my throat becoming raw from all my ragged breathing. With Omega warning me of the Rosemary’s Baby plot and Papa proposing to me and now Air possibly prophesying that I might be pregnant, the truth started to show its ugly, dark colors. There was no way I had been impregnated with the Unholy Bastard so soon!

“Rosalina! Zombie Queen!”

Throngs of masked worshippers greeted me, taking up almost every last inch of space in the atrium. They flooded the dais, the staircase, even the corridor adjacent to my bedroom. The ritual wasn’t until hours from now, yet here they stood with their texts underneath their arms, waiting for the sermon and the performance to follow.

“Leave me alone!” I cried, fighting my way through the thick crowd.

The worshippers didn’t listen, instead holding out their hands for me to touch as if I were their Madonna, a goddess to be heavily worshipped. The only goddess one in the Church of Ghost could worship was the goddess of fertility, for she would bring them the child they needed to thrive.

“Rosalina, you’re our savior! We love you!”

The entire entryway to my room was completely blocked.

“I said leave me alone!”

With nowhere to go and the worshippers’ voices buzzing in my ears, I inched toward the wall, sinking to my knees. I curled up into a ball and let out an enraged scream, the kind you only felt safe letting out underwater. It echoed, rattling throughout the entire mansion.

The worshippers stopped talking, scared into a stunned silence. Some of them thankfully got the memo and began to retreat, my quivering body enough to tell them that I shouldn’t be disturbed in the moment of my stage fright and overall anxiety.

One worshipper stayed behind, his blue eyes sympathetically glimmering behind his silver Bauta mask. He slowly approached me and lowered to my level, leaning close to me as if to whisper something in my ear.

“What do you want?” I asked him coldly.

“I wanted to see if you were okay, Rosalie.”

_He called me Rosalie._

“W-who are you?” I whispered. I didn’t recognize Silver Mask by his Brooklyn accented voice.

“I am…” Silver Mask glanced at the thinning crowd. “I cannot reveal my name around here. Special Ghoul told me to visit with you before tomorrow afternoon.”

“Are you…?” Martin, the chauffeur I had been told about.

Silver Mask – Martin – nodded. “I’m Papa’s chauffeur. I just wanted to confirm with you that I shall try and help you escape from here when we go to the Strip.”

“Y-yes.” I stood up. “That’s what I want more than anything, to be free from this nightmare. Only you can help me, if what Special said is true.”

“You can trust me, Rosalie. Damien’s told me a lot about you.”

Tears pooled up in my eyes. “You… talked to Damien?”

“I drove him back to Mandalay the night of your sacrifice, and we’ve been in contact since then. He’s gone through all the means possible to get you back.”

“You’re not lying to me?”

Martin shook his head. “I’m a double agent. I’m here not just to bus around Papa and his girls, but to get whatever secrets I can to exploit this Church. This place is dangerous. I’ve never been anywhere so despicable and disturbing.”

“Then you’ve taken over my job,” I said with a tearful chuckle. “Thanks. That means a lot to me.”

“I do it in your honor.” Martin clapped a hand over my shoulder. “Break a leg out there.”

I bowed my head. “Thank you.”

Silver Mask nodded in return and followed behind his spiritual brothers and sisters. He knew Damien… Damien was going to save me! I had my ticket out of here!

“The day’s finally come…” Happy tears streamed down my cheeks. “I’m finally flying away!”

But my happiness didn't last too long. The Ghouls filed into the atrium, Air leading, as a recording of a dissonant organ tune began to play. Air stepped up to the pulpit and waited for the worshippers to silence themselves before launching into a Latin prayer in his grumbling voice, the ideal beginning of a death metal album. I couldn't catch many words - only _Belial, Behemoth, Beelzebub. Asmodeus, Satanas, Lucifer, Mammon._ The seven crowned princes of Hell. Who knew if these demons truly existed or were merely monsters sprung out of folklore?

Omega stood at the end of the row. He held a silver thurible billowing out frankincense, a foggy cloud beneath him. Strong and dignified my Ghoul looked, still taking on the guise of a dutiful follower of the Ghost Project. Omega played the game too, clinging to the small thread of his piousness he had left. The day would soon come when Papa would disappear and we could change the Ghost Project to our liking.

Omega's head cocked in the direction of the corridor. He noticed I was watching as our eyes met, his squinting at me. I waved to him, but as he continued to stand still as a statue, he didn't respond. I hope I didn't anger him back in the garden of ruins. Did he truly understand how it felt for your mind to be infiltrated by the man you feared most, tainting your thoughts so you believed only in him?

I wish he would.

Lowering my head, I walked into my bedroom and quietly shut the door behind me, resting my forehead against the cool wood. I wished my door had a lock on the inside. Aside from when the Ghouls visited me, the threat of having no privacy loomed, knowing that anyone could barge in here whenever they wanted. Thankfully, the Ghouls did respect my privacy and left me alone when their visiting hours were up - other than Omega, of course.

“Rosalina!”

The overpowering scent of Acqua di Gio hit my nostrils.

I didn’t even pretend to be surprised.

“Papa…” I gravitated toward him and sat atop his lap, thoughtlessly cupping his cheeks and placing a kiss right on his lips. “Did you come here to wish me good luck?

Papa chuckled lowly and pulled me in closer. He wasn’t dressed in his ritual finery yet, so he made sure I didn’t wrinkle his fine, freshly-pressed suit.

“Ah, somewhat.” He pushed back the hair hanging in my eyes. “How did your session with Air go, my little darling?”

_Horribly. He pretty much gave me the death penalty._

“Wonderfully, Papa. He’s relieved my nerves quite a bit!”

“I can tell it was a little rough.” He took a bundle of dress scraps in his hands. “My poor dove, he’s ruined your dress! We can always purchase you a new one.”

“Don’t worry about it.” It wasn’t much of a surprise that I felt his hard cock against my thigh, either. “It’s only a sign of how much your boys love me.”

Papa twitched like some rabid, wild animal, a terrifying glint sharp in his mismatched eyes.

“Uh… Papa?” I slowly got off of him and backed away, nearly stumbling into the door. “Are you all right?”

Papa slowly rose from the bed, lumbering toward me.

“Papa… please.” I bit down on my bottom lip, fearing the worst. “This isn’t like you.”

“Rosalina…” Papa rasped, reaching out a hand to stroke my cheek. I couldn’t predict what he was about to do next. Slap me? Kiss me? _Rape_ me? We were alone, and the Ghouls were busy with the sermon downstairs. He had all the time in the world to do whatever he wished with me…

“Y-yes, Papa?” I stammered, sucking in my breath.

“Are you ready for your final rehearsal?”

“F-final rehearsal?”

“Yes. I must ensure that your performance is perfect. We must prove to the worshippers and everyone in the clergy that you are more than capable of delivering—“

Papa abruptly stopped himself. Delivering the Antichrist, perhaps?

I played dumb. “Deliver what, Papa?”

“Delivering… your utmost devotion and love for me, your savior…”

I let out a haughty laugh, straining my neck to look up at him.

“Oh, Papa, you’re such a tease. You nearly frightened me there for a second!”

Omega and Air’s words swarmed through my mind, begging me to reconsider letting this bastard touch me. He was here for sex – hidden away from the Ghouls and the Sisters. Finally, after months of declining my feigned advances, _now_ he wanted to have a go with me! Jealousy drove this Ghoulish man mad.

My mind was split.

_No, Rosalie, stop! Don’t you remember what Omega told you? The close you get to Papa, the more you’re putting yourself on the line! He’ll fucking destroy you!_

_Yes, Rosalina, give in to your temptation. You have experience now. You’ve stolen the hearts of several, including Papa’s. Let him show you to your dark, sinful destiny, where all the wrongs of your past shall be erased!_

I didn’t have much of a choice.

Papa pushed me against the door and slammed his lips onto mine, his teeth nearly cutting my bottom lip open. I smelled wine hot on his breath as he slid his tongue into my mouth, entwining his with mine. He moved his lips to the crook of my neck, burying a kiss on the downy flesh, inhaling the scent of the _Profumi di Pantellaria_ I wore, a gift he purchased for me one night out on the Strip.

“P-Papa...” I choked out his name, my breath stuck in my throat.

Papa savored my flesh, using my ripped-up dress to his advantage. His lips ghosted over every inch of exposed skin – the tops of my breasts, my hips, my thighs – all while keeping his gloved hands firmly planted on my shoulders. For balance of course, for he was still a bitter, old man.

_The fuck’s taking over your mind so you forget everything I told you! Fame is something that’ll easily corrupt you, Rosalie, and it isn’t something you should be playing around with!_

“Forget everything, Rosalina,” Papa whispered in my ear tantalizingly. “Stay with me and live forever in this wicked world we’ve created together. With my songs and your voice, we’ll corrupt the whole world until they serve for us alone.”

“Y-yes…”

Papa snaked a hand around my waist and guided me to my bed. Once we both lay together, he hovered me like a vulture as he took off his jacket and sunglasses, revealing the unsettling man that haunted my nightmares every night. I dared myself to look straight into his eyes, and damn, did they frighten me, penetrating right into my soul.

“Take off my gloves.”

My hands reached for his, but he pushed them away.

“With your teeth, _cara_.”

I obeyed without question, leaning my teeth toward his middle finger, slowly unraveling the glove off his right hand first, then his left. I don’t think I had ever seen Papa not wearing a pair of gloves, whether they were his usual pair or his show pair. It disgusted me to think of what his hands may look like – gnarled up fingernails, perhaps, or coated with liver spots? Maybe he had grayish skin like Omega.

Surprisingly, they were free of any imperfections, smooth and pale… youthful.

“Good girl.” Papa buried his bare hands in my hair. “I still cannot believe you will be my wife.” The mere fact caused him to chuckle, bitterly. “My _wife_. All these years of gallivanting with various women have finally led me to you, the very woman I’ve always desired. You are _divine_ , Rosalina.”

_He loves me. He wants me. He chose me._

I moved my hands to his chest, feeling him up too, sliding my fingertips down his chest until I found myself unzipping his trousers and stroking the evident bulge so blatantly concealed by his silk, black underwear.

“You’re making me work for you, my little darling?” Papa chuckled. “Such a little minx you are, Rosalina. I’ll have to give you a little something special for her performance if she so requests it! A little… special…treat.”

“And I’ll give you something to remember forever,” I whispered in his ear huskily. “Whatever you desire, I shall give, just as I’ve done with the Ghouls. Blowjobs, kinky roleplaying… anything. Even the full package, if you want – that’s everything plus the penetration. Alpha’s favorite.”

“That’s an offer I can never refuse,” Papa said in between heavy breaths. His hips jerked toward me, craving more of my touch. “Perhaps… in Vegas, my darling.”

“Oh, but why not now?” I asked petulantly. “No one’s here to stop us. I want you, Papa…”

“Remember what I have told you, Rosalina. Anticipation is the best part of pleasure.”

My heart sank to my stomach. This was all just another ruse, this ‘final rehearsal.’

“I can’t wait for the day when you’ll finally make me yours, Papa. After all, we don’t want Verona and Alessa getting in our way, hmm?”

“Of course not!” Papa fastened up his trousers. “They’re getting, ah, kicked out pretty soon, within the month, so that we may focus on our wedding plans.”

“Perfect.” I rose from the bed and led Papa to the door. “I’ll see you at ritual tonight, my Dark Excellency?”

“Absolutely, my little darling. You will do amazing tonight, _magnifico_ , I am sure of it!”

“I’ll make sure of it, Papa!” I kissed his smooth cheek. “You know me. Perfection is my biggest goal!”

I closed the door behind Papa, discreetly so that Omega wouldn't notice from downstairs.

"Fuck."

I lowered down to the floor, buying my hands in my hair. How could I be so foolish, so easily tempted by this monster? I took on my new, fucked-up outlook of life like a second skin. I had become so absorbed by the Church of Ghost's society that I forgot who I really was! Papa didn't love me. He's using me! He was the one acting to please me. This was all child's play compared to the other traumas I've conquered, but who knew when this would rise as the worst yet?

Sighing, I grabbed my costume out of my closet, careful not to wrinkle the fabric. Papa must've spent a fortune on this. The black bodice was fully decked out in silver rhinestones, glittering even in the dim light of dusk. The skimpy skirt consisted of black chiffon, translucent against my pale legs, barely covering them. A beaded, silver headdress would adorn my head in the style of the ancient Greeks, while silver bracelets of various sizes would dangle from my wrists.

"Ghuleh personified indeed," I remarked as I gazed into the mirror. Papa truly wanted his fiancée to be starry-eyed, empowered by promises of fame and love. Little did he know how aware I was of the risks I needed to take to really win his game. This would be more than a performace tonight - this was a test to see if I was truly worthy of staying here and carrying the Olde One's son. Papa may want me defiled, pregnant, and dead, but I'm going to prove him wrong.

It's always been my duty to expose the truth to the curious. I'd do it once again, but for myself and my own satisfaction, whether the Church liked it or not. Once I left here and returned to my office at Rock Uncovered, I'd have the best story I could ever tell, the exposes to end all exposes.

After all, I’m a reporter, not a detective. And reporters always risked their lives in the name of danger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> 'magnifico' - magnificent


	27. Senzafine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosalie performs her routine at the ritual, but surprise guests intervene. 
> 
> Lyrics to 'Senzafine' belong to Lacuna Coil. English translation can be found [here](https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/lacunacoil/senzafine162494.html).

Rituals ran like clockwork, a well-oiled machine. Everything was choreographed so fluidly that perhaps I watched a scene from a movie unfold right in front of me, no mistakes or continuity errors to be found. The music remained the same – ‘Masked Ball’ for the opening, ‘Monstrance Clock’ for the closing. The middle varied, depending on Papa’s mood or arousal. And then, there was celebration. Celebrations tended to be rather fun. I chatted with worshippers, messed around with the Ghouls, danced before the fire. I didn’t mind them too much.

Tonight’s ritual skipped all of this. No circle of women, no virgin dance, no sacrifice. ‘Masked Ball’ still played, though, as the Ghouls visited with the worshippers, receiving their praises and respect. I watched this all unfold from my ‘hiding spot’ in the corridor, my leg stretched out against the wall and my arms akimbo over my head. I ran through the lyrics of ‘Senzafine’ in my head, remembering Papa’s direction to roll my r’s and to use vibrato in my sustained notes. Practice needed to make perfect tonight, no flubs to be made.

I peeked through the crack of the door and stifled a laugh. Verona and Alessa sat at Papa’s throne like the good old days, their pastel _Colombina_ masks hiding their faces. Papa was really out to make them jealous tonight, especially with their ‘retirement’ on the horizon. The candlelight burned in their brown eyes, Alessa’s more so. I competed with her for Papa’s affection now. Better well use my talents to prove my worth.

Papa rose from his throne, tapping his Grucifix scepter three times as he approached his pulpit.

“Tonight, my children, I shall present to you a dance. Not one born out of innocence and naivety, but from lust. Have you ever felt desire take over every fiber of your being, ravaging every part of your desperate soul? Did you ever feel like these emotions robbed you of your sanity?”

My eyes went wide. The bastard knew exactly how I felt.

“I know the feeling, my dear worshippers, and thus, I have prepared a special treat for you all tonight, to… thank you for your pious worship of the Ghost Project.”

“That’s your cue, lovebird,” the techie from the House of Blues whispered in my ear. “Go show ‘em what you’ve made of!”

Papa extended out his arm in the direction of the corridor.

“Behold, the Dance of Sin, performed by our very own Rosalina!”

I received a rupture of applause as I stepped out into the atrium, my eyes blinded by the recently installed stage lights. A bright, fake smile greeted the worshippers, especially those with the hungry eyes that took in the sight of my scandalous costume. Memories of my dance past flooded my mind, that exhilarating feeling you get when you step out onto the stage for the first time, the smell of oily makeup and polish in the air. Goosebumps prickled all over my shoulders at the visceral thought.

The Ghouls launched into the song up on the dais, their guitars filling the atrium with a sensual, rocking melody. As I twirled and leapt, I acted as if Papa and the Ghouls were up on the stage with me, wanting to fill up my body with sweetened desires and swirls of lust. I recalled all my sessions, especially the ones with Omega, where I felt liberated and at ease in my sexual freedom. I even thought of Papa in my bedroom earlier, touching me and caressing me and making me feel like _his_. The feeling of his leather gloves on my skin still remained mentally imprinted on my body.

I threw around my gauzy skirts as I began to sing.

_Scorre lento il mio tempo_

_Che scivola sul velo della mia pelle nuda_

_Se oltrepassassi il confine che mi hai dato_

_Forse io non sarei qui_

Alpha sang the male parts, his voice a guttural growl against my pure soprano.

_Da adesso ormai che senso ha_

_Cercare di abbracciare un passato piu puro_

_Guardando avanti rischierò_

_Ma riesco a rispondere ai miei perchè_

_Madre_

_Il mio destino scelgo_

_Se riesco a resistere_

It is very easy to lose yourself in the dance. Your feet and your mind take over you. Nothing stayed at the surface of my mind except for that I was present, on the stage, becoming someone I wasn’t.   

_Scorre lento il mio tempo_

_Quell’ ultimo espire_

_Mi rassicura sento gia_

_Agonia senza fine che_

_Mi hai dato forse no_

_Non sarei qui_

I gazed up at the dais. The Ghouls lost themselves in the music as well, rocking their bodies back and forth to the beat. Even Omega got into it, stomping his feet and nearly bumping into Alpha and Water as he made the dais his musical territory.

_Ma adesso ormai che senso ha_

_Opporre resistenza a un destino segnato_

_Non restero a guardare senza_

_Riuscire a resisterti_

_Risvegliarmi_

I teasingly unclasped my bodice, freeing my bare breasts to the cheers and wolf-whistles of the worshippers. I ran my hands over my semi-nude, exposed torso, letting wild desire take over the movements of my body. My hips swayed from side to side as my hands reached for the sky, crying for absolution as I landed my final, long note with pride. I had become one of those virgins who succumbed so easily to her darkest desires, fantasies I wasn’t afraid to embrace anymore. My long-awaited achievement of letting myself go had finally arrived, and for once, I was at terms with who I was. I didn’t need to be ashamed of wanting to pursue a life of sensual adventure, as now, giving in was my _modus operandi_. Pleasure yourself. Otherwise, you’ll be empty.

I fell into a deep split and swept my leg up. The final pose.

The worshippers applauded fervently for several minutes, the closest to a standing ovation I had ever received. Some even took roses from out of their robes and flung them at me as if I was some prima ballerina, or more fittingly, a high-end stripper pulled right from the Strip. I bent down to gather up all the roses, blowing kisses to my captive audience. They too were finally in love.

Papa snaked his arm around me and kissed my cheek. There were tears in his eyes! Actual tears sliding down his painted cheeks! All the abuse and coercion I endured finally led up to this, his genuine love, something a bit more than an act he put on for pity points.

“ _Bello, Rosalina. Semplicemente bello._ ”

Exactly what Omega and I feared.

Papa then bent down on one knee and took my hand in his, like he did in the gazebo. The worshippers’ applause turned into loud shrieks of shock or yells of protests, or even cries of jealousy. Alessa started _screaming_ – Verona had to hold her to shush her up, patting her shoulder sympathetically.

“Your sinful preacher has finally found a bride,” Papa announced, practically yelling over the crowd. “Rosalina accepted my hand in marriage. Ever since she arrived to our Church, I knew she would be the perfect woman for me to spend my dying days with. She has revitalized me! Thus, I have asked her to be mine, and she has obliged!”

I beamed up in fake victory as Papa slid an extravagant silver ring of rubies on my finger. It must’ve weighed at least half a pound or two – I could barely move my hand.  

“Rubies!” I cried, showing my ring off to the worshippers. “He bought me rubies!”

I glanced up at the dais again to try and find Omega. All of the Ghouls were gone!

“Rosalina, watch out!”

From the other side of the atrium, two worshippers pushed their way up to the platform, dressed in garish Halloween costumes that immediately told me these were not common worshippers, but infiltrators. Aside from me, we never received them. Security increased since my arrival, making sure everyone knew the password to get into the rituals. We couldn’t have another exploitation incident happen.

One of the infiltrators charged directly toward me. He wore a rubbery bird mask that I would’ve taken seriously if it weren’t for the goofy, wide eyes and agape mouth. The dark, hooded robe he wore was too flimsy to hide the stone-washed jeans and Metallica t-shirt he wore over his lean frame.

Papa buried me with the long sleeves of his chasuble, but before he could lead me away, the other infiltrator pushed him aside.

“Papa!”

Alessa, Verona, and I all ran over to Papa, but Bird grabbed me from behind and gently guided me away, leading me to the other infiltrator, an average-sized man wearing an orange jester mask with a golden, devilish grin that blended in better with the worshippers’ Venetian styled masks.

“Back off!” I raised my arm to hurdle Jester’s mask off his face, but something in this man’s brown eyes stopped me, reminding me of a man I specifically linked to Botox and the charisma of a used car salesman.

“Hold her for me, will ‘ya?” Jester whispered to his Bird companion. “Let her go once we’ve revealed who we are.”

Bird nodded.

“All right, all right, shut up!” Jester stepped up to the pulpit. “We’ve come here today to exploit you all of the crimes you Phantom of the Opera rejects committed!” He sharply turned to Papa, who was being helped back up to his feet by the Ghouls. “You’ve kidnapped women and manipulated them to like you. You all worship Satan in the most literal means I’ve ever seen… you guys are nutjobs! No wonder why radio stations refuse to play your music!”

“Leave him alone!” I cried, shaking in Bird’s grasp. “He’s doing what Mammon commanded him to do!”

“She’s right!” Alessa exclaimed, shockingly agreeing with me for once. “Don’t fucking touch him!”

Jester cocked his head in my direction and sauntered over to me.

“Shocking words coming out of you, Hammond. I hope you still remember good ol’ Berk!”

Jester threw off his mask.

“S-Sam?!” 

Mr. Berkeley had come here to save me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> 'semplicemente bello' - 'simply beautiful'


	28. Ghosts of the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damien and Berkeley are caught in the act.

My heart dropped. Out of all the people I could think of, it was Mr. Berkeley who risked his life by coming to the Church of Ghost to save me, my own boss who I thought only looked out for his best interests alone. I always thought that despite his wisecracks and stuffy personality, Berkeley really did look out for his staff members, seeing them as extended family. But never did I think he’d come out all the way to take me away from these monsters.

Bird tore off his mask as well. A young man, his dark hair shaggier than I remembered and his eyes brown and dull, looked up at Papa fearlessly, waiting for the moment that echoed the October night of our lives. I’d seen this man before, in my dreams. He frequently sat at my bedside and reassured me that everything would be all right, that he would be here to save me soon.

“Damien!” 

“You!” Papa hissed, shaking a finger at Damien. “I thought I told you to stay away from here!”

“Well, I got some well-needed assistance,” Damien fired back with a new bravery that was absent in October. “We’re shutting you down tonight, Papa!”

“Damien knew if he came here alone, he’d be killed by you and your Illuminati freaks!” Berkeley added. “But we won’t stand for it, Emeritus! Nuh uh! Your little Satanic rituals are about to end, and we’re taking Rosalie straight the hell out of here! Literally!”

Papa glared at me, waiting for me to defend the Church. If I said the wrong thing, the sacrifice he promised in October could still happen.

“My name is Rosalina, _sir_ ,” I hissed at Berkeley.

Berkeley let out an appalled cry. “Look what you did, Emeritus! You’ve brainwashed the girl so much that she’s forgotten her name! Just wait until my lawyers hear about this!”

“Rosalie!” Damien threw his arms over my frozen body, nearly suffocating me with his embrace. The sweet smell of Dior cologne sped up my heartbeat – a reminder of home. “Oh, God, Rosalie… I was so worried about you! I can’t believe it! We can go home and leave these freaks behind now. You’re safe with us!”

Tears prickled in my eyes as my legs began to tremble. Finally, after weeks of yearning to go home, the moment of freedom had arrived… prematurely. With the entire clergy watching us, there was no way we could leave unscathed, no way could I tell the truth of the horrors I faced here. Papa had me under lock and key.

And technically, so did Omega. I didn't want to leave him behind after the strong bond we created. I didn't want him to feel used that I started an affair with him just because I missed my boyfriend and could possibly never see him again. Omega had become my friend, my confidant, but was it time for me to let him go so easily? My escape could save the both of us. Papa's twisted love didn't do wonders for us at all. He still remained a facet of the Ghost Project, and could turn his back on me at any time. If I let, there would be no more mind games. No more isolation. No more berating.

But I loved him...

The sight of Damien’s happiness broke my heart. He waited months to finally see me again, but when I returned home, what kind of person would I be? I wouldn’t relapse into the reporter stance of mind so quickly. With all that’s happened, it could take me months, even years to become who I was in the past. Possibly even never.

_I would survive better off here than there._

_I have to break Damien’s heart to save him._

“I can’t leave, Damien.”

“W-what did you say, Rosalie?” Damien’s grip loosened.

“I said… I can’t leave.”

Everyone fell silent, eager to hear what I had to say.

“The Ghost Project… has treated me very well. I owe Papa big time!” I wandered over to him, lost in his gaze. “He’s offered me the escape I always wished for. He’s made my dreams come true! He had the heart to spare me from harm when I tried to divulge in the Project’s secrets. If it wasn’t for my sacrifice, I’d be dead, and so would you, Damien!”

Berkeley’s eyes went wide in horror. “Life’s always a damn gamble, isn’t it? I knew there’d be a terrible price to pay for all of this.”

“You’re right, Sam. Freedom has a price. I’ve been reminded of it.” I pulled down my skirt and revealed the tattoo on my navel to Damien and Berkeley.”The Church of Ghost is my home now.”

“Rose, you don’t understand!” Damien ran up to me and tried pulling me away from Papa. “This… _Church_ brainwashed you! This is a fucking madhouse, and by sticking around you’ve become mad yourself! Please, Rosalie…” He started to cry. “Come back with us. I’ll make sure these people won’t hurt you ever again. You’ve got to get out of here! You look so tired… please, Rosalie. Please.”

Papa watched me struggle, a wide, feral grin spreading on his face. He knew I was contemplating, wanting so badly to break free now that I had the chance. I wasn’t allowed to say what I truly wished to say – “Yes, Damien, let’s get out of here.” If I did go back with Damien and Berkeley, Hell would rise. Knowing Papa’s power, and the claim he had on my soul, I must stay here and keep my end of the bargain.

I stepped closer to my boyfriend.

“No, Damien. I am ready to redeem you.”

The worshippers gasped – those words must’ve been sacred here.

“Curiosity is a dangerous thing,” I continued, recalling Papa’s first words to me. “It could kill you. It almost killed us. You were told not to come back here, Damien, and if you did, you’d get hurt, on account of me. I don’t want to see you hurt. I… I think I’m doing the right thing.”

“You’re telling lies, Hammond!” Berkeley shouted in desperation. “This is all fodder he’s forcing you to recite!”

“No, Sam.” I slowly shook my head. “It’s how I feel. I’ve become… so loyal to this Church. They saved me. This is what I’ve always wanted.” I turned back to Damien. “I’m so sorry, Damien. I don’t want to break your heart like this, but… this is the path I’ve chosen to follow.”

“Rosalie, no!”

Papa brought me into his arms and kissed me passionately, caressing me with an almost eerie gentleness. Yes, the Prime Mover decided to stay! The worshippers cheered and hollered beneath us, singing ‘Ghuleh’ at the top of their lungs in victory, a demented choir conjured up by Satan himself. _This_ was how much I meant to the Ghost Project – I was their idol now, inspired by and admired, the sacrifice turned loyal follower. The thought sickened me, but I must wear it with the sickest form of pride.

“Well played, my beauty,” Papa rasped in my ear. “Do not worry. They will learn.”

“Oh, I hope they do,” I whispered, hating the sound of my own voice there and then.

“What do you want us to do with them, Emeritus?” Alpha asked as he and Air approached us.

“Send them to the dungeons, boys,” Papa ordered. “I won’t allow these gentile fools to ruin our engagement ceremony.”

Alpha and Air grabbed Damien and Berkeley’s wrists and ushered them out of the atrium, down the corridor that led to the underground dungeons. Only the rebels and the worst of corrupted souls were sent to the dungeons, cast down from the heavens to the ground. Most died of dehydration or starvation down there…

“Damien, wait!” I collected my skirts and followed behind Alpha and Air.”I didn’t mean anything I said! I… I couldn’t confess the truth—“

“Truth?” Berkeley cackled in mockery. “Yeah, let’s hear some truths out of you, Hammond. Ooh, here’s a good one. You’re probably pregnant with Papa’s baby right about now!”

Any air I had left in me completely vanished as I fell to the ground.

“Rosalie!” A broad hand stroked my forehead, a cool ring brushing past my skin. “Come on, I’m taking you somewhere safe.”

"Omega, don't, please..." I forced myself to watch as Damien and Berkeley further descended down the corridor, down to their own doomed fates. "I've got to stop them! I want to see Damien. Please, let me see him..."

"I'm sorry Rosalie, I can't." Omega swept me up in his arms, cradling my shaking body. "Papa's hot on our trail."

"Omega, please!" I shrieked, clawing at his chest, but he wouldn't let me go. "They're going to die down there! Please! Let me go!"

Omega began to walk steadily down the corridor and through the crowdless atrium, traversing through to the celebration pathway outside. He stomped through the thick woods, pushing crooked tree branches and foliage aside until we were deep inside, away from everyone, hiding behind a thick bush in case anybody did come here.

"Omega... I did it all wrong." Snot and tears ran down my face as he set me down on a log big enough to serve as a bench for the two of us. "I shouldve told them to leave..."

"Don't worry, Rosalie." Omega brushed back my hair and the watery mess on my face. "You did the right thing. You're finally starting to play your own game."

 


	29. Twisted Every Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosalie confides in Omega and her Sisters.

"P-playing my own game?" I echoed Omega's words, trying to realize what he meant. "No... in the end, this is still all Papa's game. You were right, Omega. I should've never ignored you. Papa only wants to marry me because he knows I'm pregnant!"

"W-what?" Omega gasped.

"I said I'm pregnant, Omega." I took a deep breath, inhaling the cool, night air, humid and pollenated. "When I visited Air, I told him to tell me my future. I figured it'd be the easiest way to find out I'm pregnant without getting Papa involved. You know he's a psychic, right?"

Omega nodded. "It explains why he hardly talks."

"So, he told me basically what we know, but..." I sighed deeply. "He told me I'm pregnant. It's the real deal!"

"And Air's never been wrong." Omega soothingly ran his hand through my hair. "Every prophecy I've heard from him ends up being right in the end."

"See what I mean?" Tears prickled in my eyes again. "He told me I'm already a month along! He probably went off and told Papa behind my back, that fucker. At this point I'd be safer rotting away in the dungeons!"

"No, you wouldn't. I know you don't want anybody getting hurt, so you did what was right for you, and your ex, and your boss. The others are going to release them eventually. Papa doesn't give a shit anyway, now that he's distracted with your marriage and the Prime Mover. You played the right strategy. Literally, what you did was better than anything I could've thought of."

"A-are you sure the others will let them go?" I sniffled, looking up at Omega. "I don't want them to suffer. I just want them to go free and live their lives."

"Yes, Rosalie," Omega said reassuringly. "In fact, while you're in Vegas, I'll make sure they do it, and if they don't... well... I'll kick their asses."

I gave a tearful giggle. "I bet you will."

"You know, you always say Papa's the one playing you, but you know what?" Omega's eyes squinted behind his mask, an indicator that he was smiling. "You finally played him. And that's a good thing! This'll all lead to what we need to begin our resistance. The longer you keep Papa distracted, the more we can try putting our plans into action."

"I'm surprised he hasn't figured absolutely everything out."

"And soon, we'll free everyone from the tyranny of the Ghost Project. We'll show them that we have what it takes. No one will suffer anymore... including you and whoever's baby you're having."

"It's yours, Omega." I held onto his hand and lowered it to my flat stomach. "You've saved my life, and soon, you'll be saving us from Papa's evil."

"I assure you, the Ghost Project will become ours again. We'll be a sanctuary to those who want to thrive in the darkness again. It's what we've always wanted. No more Prime Mover bullshit, no more abuse."

"That's what I've always dreamed of." I rested my head against his shoulder and placed my hand over his. "You'll really need to help me these next few months, Omega. Provide for me. Provide for the baby. Keep us free from all this mayhem."

"You know I will, Rosalie." Omega's beak poked my collarbone as he rested his lips against my neck, savoring my pulse. "You know I will."

"And you love me still, right?"

Omega silenced me with a tender kiss on my lips, one which was quick to sink into.

"You don't need to know the truth behind my past just yet. It'll make sense later on."

* * *

I woke up not to Omega's comforting arms, but my angered Sisters of Sin standing in front of my bed.

"H-hello, Sisters." I wrapped myself in my blankets and sat up straight. "Are any of the Ghouls coming here before I leave?"

"We're warning you now," Alessa hissed, her face red with anger, "you may have managed to fuck around with the Ghouls, but don't even think about getting close with Papa! Just because he's taking you out doesn't mean you have the right to sell him your services. He's only for us Sisters!"

Papa must've told them he was letting them go.

"What do you mean, Sister Alessa?" I asked, feigning confusion. "Papa is my fiance, after all."

"Don't even fucking remind me!" Alessa scoffed, holding back tears. "Why does he think you're so special, anyway? It's not like you went through what we did to earn his love!"

"Actually... I did, Alessa." I raised my voice. I couldn't let these two dictate what was right and what was wrong. "I hung in a cellar. I got tattooed and whipped, I'm forced to screw with five people I don't even know... Papa's making me stay here against my will! Why do you think I'd want to fuck him? I don't even want to marry him! He's an old creep!"

Alessa gasped.

“Don’t you understand that this is all an act I put on just so I can save my ass? I was never in love with Papa. That’s the thing about this place – you have to wear your mask to win someone over, and it’s saved me from all the hell I had to endure for the past few months. So when you two glare at me at the rituals, I don’t understand. You’ve taught me everything, and I owe you my life for it. But ever since I’ve been here, you’ve resented me for whatever reason, and I demand to know why. I'm so sick of you two thinking _I'm_ the bad guy here!”

Alessa took a deep, scared breath. "Fine. We're jealous because Papa's obsessed with you!" She started to cry, not unlike last night. "We owe Papa our lives in ways you'd never understand. We had to work for his trust. You just came in and he happened to fall in love with you right away, even though he's going to fucking kill you with this Prime Mover bullshit. But us? Since we're devotees, we weren't showered with gifts and praise and love. We had to sacrifice our lives for this Church, and go through several trials to prove our worth. You didn't."

"What trials?" I wanted to know how exactly my Sisters suffered, how they tried to survive.

"Nothing like your initiation, that's for sure. It was more like being tortured than anything else." Alessa's eyes nervously looked around. "Look, I was near death once. I had an abusive boyfriend who did nothing but sit around and drink all day. I had to keep to myself so I wasn't on the receiving end of his fist. But music saved me, especially Ghost. They helped me find where my belief really belonged. So, when I found out that Ghost was playing close to where I lived - Chicago - I went all the way to the venue by myself and found Papa by the stage door. He knew I was suffering, so he offered me the choice to restart my life. He saved me!"

“I…” Verona wanted to tell her story too, but something in her mind made tears roll down her bronzed cheeks. She shook her head, her story probably too triggering for her to tell. “I… I can’t tell my story, but I can tell you this. In the Church of Ghost, it’s best if you don’t befriend anybody. Not us and not even the Ghouls. It could seriously cost you your life… and it’s what happened to me and Alessa. We had to sell our souls so that we could thrive. Papa saved us both, and just the thought of him leaving us for you breaks our hearts.”

"I'm sorry..." I only could bring myself to say. With the sacrifices my Sisters made, perhaps they were more worthy of anyone's love here. They had to reason to devote themselves entirely to Ghost, but me? This act is going to corrupt me sooner or later to the point where I couldn't fight anymore.

“Rosalina?" Papa knocked on the door. "Are you ready to go, my little darling?”

_Chauffeur. Martin. Here we go!_

“In a few minutes, Papa!” I shouted. "Just let me get ready!”

"So what do you have to say for yourself?" Alessa asked snidely. "Or are you still the coward you've always been?"

I lowered my voice as I changed into low-cut black dress and heels. “I promise you, Alessa, I'm not going to do anything you don't want me to." I paused. "But you know what? I figured out this is the best time for me to escape. Papa’s not going to see it coming.”

Something about my plans made Verona's eyes flash over with fear.

Alessa snorted. "Oh, please. He'll find you."

"It's worth a try." I opened my closet and found a suitcase that Special must've put in here while I was sleeping. "You two can go ahead and love Papa all you want. But I'll warn you, he's very dangerous, and I can't let him take over me. And soon, he'll take over you, too."

"That's not to say he hasn't already," Verona remarked.

"Shut up, Verona!" Alessa slapped her Sister's shoulder. "Papa never brainwashed us!"

"Yes he has, Alessa." I turned to face her. “When are you ever going to realize that? After everything you told me, I'm starting to think he's fucked up your mind like he did with mine. Maybe even worse. I can't play Papa's mind games anymore. I’m going to leave, and I’m not coming back. Away from Papa, away from the Church of Ghost, away from Las Vegas! I’m going to catch a flight back home to North Carolina, and pretend none of this ever happened to me.”

"But what about Omega?" Verona asked in concern. "Or Damien? Or that sleazebag he's with?"

I froze in my tracks. Verona had been informed of my affair somehow, but any secrets I kept to my name didn't really matter anymore. If I attempted to escape again, then my relationship with Omega would be...

Dead.

And there was no way I could warn him otherwise now.

"Omega told me he'd free Damien and Berkeley on my behalf. Just let them both know I'm safe, and don't forget to let Damien know I'll be back in North Carolina for a little while. As for Omega..." I exhaled. "Tell him... I'm grateful for everything he's helped me with. I'll raise his child away from these Satan-worshipping motherfuckers."

“Wait, you’re pregnant?!” Alessa said loudly.

“It doesn’t matter.” I lifted up the handle of the suitcase. “My child is not becoming this Church’s Antichrist or any part in Papa’s plans.” I glanced back at my Sisters, nodding my head in a goodbye. “Thank you for your lessons, Sisters. I know you found it very hard to accept me, but what can I say? You've helped a recluse out."

"I don't want you to go." Verona rushed to my side and grabbed my wrist, sliding something cold and small in my hand. "We... we have much more to teach you. You can't leave Omega behind, you can't! He loves you."

"You weren't supposed to know," I said coldly. "None of you were."

"Well, not everything's a secret forever," Alessa said, rolling her eyes.

"Yes, but... Omega told me himself, Rosalina," Verona said, glaring at Alessa. "I know how much you love him."

I glanced down at the item Verona slipped to me.

The key to the dungeons.

"When you come back, free Damien and Berkeley," Verona whispered in my ear. "I'll watch them for you, make sure they're fed. I'll inform them about everything that's going on. Omega too. We'll make sure they know the truth."

"How do I know I can trust you?" I asked in disbelief. "First Omega, then the chauffeur... now you. Why are people coming to my aid so quickly?"

Verona leaned in closer to my ear.

"Because I'm a prisoner, too."

My heart fell to my chest.

"Rosalina, hurry up!" Papa knocked on the door again. "We cannot be late!"

"I'm coming, Papa!" I slipped the key in my suitcase before turning back to the Sisters. "I'll leave you two with these parting words. Kurt Cobain wrote that it's better to burn out than to fade away. That's precisely what I'm doing."

I opened the door, leaving my Sisters frozen in shock.

"Ahh, there you are," Papa purred, linking his arm with mine. "Now, let us go and celebrate our unholy matrimony."

"I can't wait, Papa," I said cheerily.

We descended down the staircase, catching a glimpse of the Ghouls setting up for tonight's ritual. It would be deus in absentia, without a leader to guide them, but perhaps Omega could take on the role and tell the worshippers the truth. Not that he would, though. Alpha and Air still remained loyal to the Project, and I wasn't quite sure of Water and Earth's stance.

"Say _arrivederci_ to Rosalina, boys!" Papa called to them. "You shall see her again in a few days' time."

The Ghouls didn't answer. Water gave a cheeky little wave, though, the smartass he sometimes could be.

Omega's eyes met mine, the bright shade of blue replaced with a dull, devoid color. Emotionless, yet with a small sliver of light, pleading with me not to leave him.

"The show must go on," I whispered. "I love you."

Omega lowered his head, unable to show any emotion.


	30. Sweet Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosalie leaves for Vegas and reunites with Martin, who may be her last hope for escaping from the Church of Ghost.

The glittering "Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas" sign greeted us as we entered the Strip, welcoming me back to an alleyway filled with neon kitsch and towering hotels. Papa never told me what hotel we were staying at, so to occupy myself, I played a guessing game in my mind, ruling out the cheap motels and gimmicky places like Circus Circus. Papa, of course, was a man of acquired taste. He wouldn't dare set foot in a hotel that stunk of chlorine and smoke and buzzed with the sounds of high-pitched gambling machines. I riddled my brain for hotels I secretly wished to visit - Caesar's Palace, Planet Hollywood, the Aria. Caesar's Palace held the title of the Strip's most overpriced buffet, the Bacchanal. Perhaps we'd stay in a Skyloft overlooking the entire Strip, the cars like tiny fireflies below us. With Papa, the sky was the limit. To distract me from my dreadful, destined purpose, Papa would be the kind of man to bury me in treasures, throwing pearls at my feet to keep distract me.

If one entered the Strip for the first time, they'd probably take their sweet time stuck in traffic to familiarize themselves with their new surroundings. Here's the closest Shake Shack. Oh, look, they even have a McDonald's here, the Golden Arches glittering scarlet and gold. That Cirque du Soleil show with the martial artists sure looks interesting. And, ooh, they've even got bungee jumping! The City of Sin's thrilling offerings were the dreams of the wealthy. I should be excited to return to this dazzling place, I tried to think, but in my time imprisoned in the Church, the excitement faded away. Nothing appealed to my mind the way it used to. Now, I could only think, "Would Papa approve of this? Would I be allowed to do that?"

"So, Rosalina." Martin addressed me from the front seat, remaining in character as the knowledgeable Vegas chauffeur. "Are you excited to be on the Strip again?"

"Of course I am, Martin!" I replied in my prissy courtesan drawl. "Papa and I are _very_ happy to be here."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that. I happen to have some recommendations for shows and restaurants, if you're interested."

"If your show recommendations involve Cirque du Soleil in some sort, I'd be more than interested." I turned to Papa. "Do you like Cirque du Soleil, Papa?"

"I am not fond of the circus, Rosalina." Papa had been staring out the window the moment we left the abbey, not once turning to look at me. He cracked the window open and took a long drag from his cigar, seething when the dark smoke billowed out of his mouth.

In addition to being a double agent, Martin was also a walking, talking Travel Channel when it came down to the nitty-gritty of Vegas tourism. He discussed attractions as if I were a first-timer, even scoping out areas where tourists wouldn't even bother to go.

"Oh, most people don't think about visiting the Peppermill. It's too out of the way. They prefer to stay in their own bubble on the Strip. Same thing with the downtown district. There's a really interesting neon graveyard there. But if you really want to stay on the Strip, the Stratosphere has some wild rides. You'll want to escape from the roller coaster that nearly lets you off the track. But don't worry, you'll be back on your feet in no time!"

I nodded and smiled. What a clever way to hint at our plan.

"Oh, look! There we are!" Passing by the Mandalay Bay, an electronic billboard for the three-shows-a-week concerts was displayed near the hotel's entrance. The artwork consisted of Papa staring out into the void, the Ghouls surrounded behind him. "I've never seen that before."

Papa briefly cocked his head in the direction of the advertisement. I could see his eyes turn into thin slits at the sight of his drawn visage from behind his sunglasses.

"They got my bone structure wrong."

"And there's the Luxor!" The black pyramid hotel stood some hundred or so feet away, a bright beam of light shooting out from the top. "Criss Angel has a show there, doesn't he? I'll admit, I had a crush on him when I was younger."

"He is an illusionist, my dear," Papa said coldly. "Illusions are child's play."

"Well, what type of illusion did you use to win my heart over, Papa?" Biting down on my lip, I snuggled my head into his shoulder. "Definitely one that's ten times better than his."

Papa didn't appreciate my remark, instead taking a swig of his bottled Cognac.

Twenty minutes later, Martin drove into the valet parking section of the Venetian hotel. A fitting choice, considering how the band mocked the Catholic Church and the Vatican, in addition to another obvious reason that I didn't need to even think about. I would be trapped in luxury, but only for a little while. What, did Papa think I'd be blinded by jewelry and opulence and greed?

Treasure Island stood right across the street. The bird on the Mystêre advertisement that flashed on the screen every few seconds gazed at me with its wide, brown eyes, the only humane part of their arian appearance.

"Remember when you were here?" I pretended the bird asked me in a high-pitched, mocking voice, similar to Alessa's. "Remember when you had no idea who you were, but the beats of the drum moved your heart? Remember when the last thing on your mind was disappointing the man who may potentially kill you? Have you truly discovered yourself yet? Are you really as free as you think?"

"Rosalina!"

Papa's voice interrupted my thoughts.

Martin held the Ghost's door open, smiling reassuringly at me. I exited and took Papa's offered arm, glancing up at the Renaissance painting above me. Tourists and visitors of all kinds carried on as usual, armed with shopping bags or brochures for shows performing down the road.

A few stopped and stared at the youthful prize clinging to the robust, old man. Their dirty looks pierced through me like a bullet. I tried to fight back a scream, desperately wanting to tell somebody, anybody, that I didn't belong here with this man. They wouldn't understand, though. They had mistaken me for another classy Vegas escort, off to perform her sinful duty.

Instead, I focused on the sound of my heels clicking against the tiled floor as we walked into the Venetian. Italian opera music perked up my ears and the smell of fresh roses wafted into my nostrils. This hotel's opulence proved to be an instant indicator as to why Papa chose to stay here with me. Venice was once his home, before the Ghouls chose him to be the next Papa. While perched atop his lap in the vestry, he told me stories of the times he attended Sunday mass as a young boy, cloistered in the confines of the holy sanctuary. The faux Italian architecture served as nothing but a void, a figment of our imagination, fulfilling a desire to travel abroad. Riches beyond measures sat in glass boxes at all sides, and the painting of the blue sky above me trapped me in a fantasy world where I was Papa's queen.

_This is all for you, Rosalina. Take it all in, because soon, you'll be back in the dark Church, nothing but the nasty parasite you are._

"Perhaps someday I will take you to the real Venice, Rosalina," Papa whispered in my ear, taking the opportunity to play with my hair. Martin went to check in for us, so we stood out in the open, on full display. "Maybe after our marriage, if we can find time. Or maybe even after the child—"

"Child?" Ooh, did he slip?

Papa cleared his throat. "Oh, I apologize. I meant perhaps after certain tasks are carried out, we shall go on our proper honeymoon."

A while later, we located our suite. The luxurious aesthetic of the Grand Canal definitely lived in our room too, with a much-needed touch of homeliness thrown in for good measure. Everything was decorated in a cream or pearl shade - no reds or blacks to be found here.

My eye caught the entrance to the master bedroom tucked away in the farthest corner of the suite. Morning sickness bubbled in my throat, threatening to make its vile presence.

"How do you like the suite, Rosalina?" Papa snaked his arm around my waist. "Alas, I could not afford the coveted Penthouse Suite, but the Prima Suite shall do us just as good. After all, I always try to get the best for my little darling!"

"I love it, Papa," I simply said with a smile, keeping my gaze out the window. The canyons sat at a plateau miles away, cast over by the orange glow of the sunset. "This is the most beautiful place I've ever seen."

Papa didn't necessarily care, chuckling bitterly.

"I almost forgot that I have a present for you, my little darling... a wedding present, if you will."

"You're always one to spoil me rotten, Papa. This trip is already enough, isn't it?"

"As your future husband, it is my job to spoil you! You have served as my Ghouls' courtesan, so you must receive something in exchange for your tasks." Papa raised a hand and snapped his fingers. "Martin!"

"Yes, sir?" Martin's voice quivered.

" _Individua la confezione regalo per me, per favore._ " Papa spoke in his mother tongue whenever he didn't want me to catch what he was saying. Turning back to me, he added, "I had this hand-crafted by one of our worshippers. He's a skilled jeweler."

"Here you are, sir." Martin approached us with a black gift box in his hands.

" _Grazie._ "

Papa snatched the box from the chauffeur's grip and held it out in front of me, taking off the top slowly. An extraordinary version of the Grucifix necklace my Sisters wore around their necks sat atop a cloth of black silk. The cross itself, which probably weighed at least five pounds because of how heavy it looked, was made of sterling silver and topped with tiny rubies that shimmered when caught in the light from the overhead chandelier.

"Woah..." I couldn't help but gasp, catching my shadowy reflection in the freshly polished silver. "This is... simply astounding."

"Isn't it?" Papa's gloved fingertips stroked the back of my neck. "Here... let me put it on for you."

"N-no!" My hands reflexively covered the Grucifix I wore around my neck, the one Omega gave to me the night of my initiation. 

Papa pried my hands off my chest and took a good, hard look at my lover's necklace.

"I meant to ask you about this..." He slid his fingertips underneath the chain. "Did one of my Ghouls give this to you?"

I took a deep breath, already fearing Papa's answer.

"Omega did, as a gift from all the Ghouls for my initiation ceremony. I just... never told you about it. I thought you'd be angry."

"I see." Papa pulled on the charm and snatched the necklace off of me, letting it dangle in his balled fist. "It's amateurish art. You have a new one now."

Tears stung in my eyes as I stared at the broken Grucifix. Omega had made it special for me, to make me feel welcome in the place that I considered to be my own personal Hell. Anything my lover created was ten times more valuable than an ostentatious, heavy necklace bedazzled with unnecessary bling.

"There..." Papa fastened the chain to my new necklace. I hadn't even noticed he put it on me. "Look in the mirror and tell me what you see."

I saw a fallen angel, her wings clipped from her back and her heart thrust out of her chest.

"A queen," I gasped, before anything defensive managed to slip its way out.

"Perfect." Papa kissed the rubies on my new necklace before he kissed the nape of my neck - very telling. "Now, I'm afraid I have rather important business to attend to before our night together. Those paparazzi fools are obsessed with my image, so they've called for a photoshoot and an interview session for a documentary."

"And what will I do, Papa?" I asked uneasily.

I felt something heavy being slipped into my hand - a thick stack of fifty-dollar bills tied neatly together with a black ribbon.

"Go into the city and spend this money as you wish. Buy yourself dresses, shoes, whatever it is you desire! Just meet me back here at nine. We have a dinner reservation and I'd certainly hate if you missed it."

Did he do this with Alessa and Verona? Just gave them money and let them have free reign of the Strip? Did this man even have a heart at all?

"Rosalina?" Martin clasped a hand on my shoulder. "Let's head out to the Grand Canal Shoppes. Or we can head out to the Forum Shops at Caesar's, if you'd like!" He then added with a whisper, "It's for the best."

"Oh, the Grand Canal!" Papa comedically slapped his forehead. "That's what I would've liked to do, one of those gondola rides. I feared the paparazzi would've showed their ugly faces, though... they say I'm on the level of a Vegas celebrity now, like the great Frankie Sinatra. Perhaps I've brought more darkness to a place already ridden with sin!" He narrowed his eyes and peered behind his sunglasses at me. "Not that I blame you for once being a paparazzi fool yourself, Rosalina... but you know how much I despise reporters."

"Let's go," I hissed at Martin, spinning on my heel as I charged toward the door.

"Don't listen to him, Rosalie." Martin hurried behind me, holding the door open for me. "He's drunk. He's... usually like this on Tuesdays—"

"I don't care if he's drunk!" The door sealed shut, the sound echoing throughout the hallway. "I've had enough of this!"

"Shhh." Martin rubbed his hand on my back. "It's okay. We're leaving now, just as we've planned. We'll go back to the abbey and get your boyfriend and your boss, and then we're out of here. No more Ghost to worry about."

"No more... no more Ghost..." The words made me smile. I licked the pad of my finger and wiped the black tears on my face away. "Let's go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> 'individua la confezione regalo per me, per favore' - 'locate the gift box for me, please'


	31. Home Is Where the Heart Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosalie and Martin leave the Venetian, but what will happen when they get too far?

"All right." Martin pressed the elevator button. "Let's do this. How far is your house from the Strip?"

"It's in Boulder City, so not very far," I replied. "We'll have to take the freeway, and God help us if it's still congested out there. I think what we should do is go straight to my house and I'll collect up any valuables. My dog, too... she's probably freaking out. Then we'll go back to the abbey and get Damien and Berkeley. Berkeley will go his own way, and then Damien and I will go into hiding... at a cheap motel, I guess, until this storm passes over."

"Sounds plausible. I know of a few motels Papa wouldn't dare step foot near. I can even hook you up with a flight."

"Do you know if McCarran has any flights heading out to North Carolina tomorrow?"

Martin hummed. "Not off the top of my head, but I can check."

I steadied my hand against the wall. "Okay. Good." I let out a few invigorating breaths. "Oh, dear God... finally, this Hell has ended."

"I'll do everything I can to help you, Rosalie," Martin said reassuringly. "We're going to get through this together. You, me, your boyfriend, and Berkeley. Think about it. Twenty-four hours from now, you'll be free!"

The elevator doors flew open. We wouldn't be alone; a small group of Japanese tourists stood, bound for the ground floor as well, chattering away in their native language.

"There's a few things I need to tell you, though." I followed behind Martin and found a spot in the corner of the elevator. "Last night, I had a session with Air, and I found out he's a psychic in the worst possible way."

"A psychic?" 

The elevator doors closed.

"He told me I'm pregnant, which if you remember, is the best news Papa can ever receive. My child is what he wants to bring the Ghost Project further into power."

Martin nodded. "Yes, I remember hearing him talk about those plans at some of the meetings I've eavesdropped on."

"Crazy, isn't it?"

"I've heard crazier. Try hanging around with Marilyn Manson for a few hours."

"See? That's why I need to escape. If I stay any longer, I will die." I glanced over at the tourists and lowered my voice to a faint whisper. "Though I need real confirmation that I am indeed pregnant. Air could possibly still be lying, but knowing him, he could also very well be right."

"I can take you somewhere to get a test. Don't worry about a thing. Remember, group effort here."

After a long walk through the Grand Canal, we returned to valet parking and hopped into the Ghost.

"Here, punch in your address." Martin offered me his phone. "Hope you still remember how to work a phone."

"Why wouldn't I?" I went into Google Maps and entered my address. "Even though I've been phone-free for months, I'm not tech illterate."

I placed Martin's phone on his lap. He narrowed his eyes down to read the address.

"Oh, God..." Martin muttered underneath his hand.

"What's wrong, Martin?" I asked worriedly. "You don't look so hot."

"It's nothing." But Martin's evident horror spread to his voice. "Uh... Boulder City, huh? I've never been there before."

I raised an eyebrow. "You haven't? It's quite nice."

"My wife and I were considering moving there, but she wanted to live near the canyons. She's not into the whole touristy, bright-lights stuff."

“I see." I leaned back into my seat. "Anyway, tell me a little bit about what you do. I haven't really got to know you yet. Do you know Papa or any of the Ghouls personally?”

"I'm only Papa's chauffeur and of course, a double agent. I'm finding out information for the Facebook page your boyfriend's developed. It's called Vegas Against Ghost B.C."

"Vegas Against Ghost B.C..." Oh Damien, I could've helped you create a better name than that! "What kind of people are on there?"

"Heavy metal elitists. Evangelical Christians. You know, the usual people trying to stop Ghost from spreading their messages. But Damien's been getting a pretty good reach. He's done a great job."

"That's my boyfriend for you."

Martin gave me his phone again. "Here, check out the page."

I opened the Facebook app and searched for the page. A white promotional photo featuring Papa and the Ghouls was the page's banner, with a dozen red X's Photoshopped onto the picture. The icon?

A picture of me dressed as a Nameless Ghoul, blonde hair hanging out of my hood, with the caption "SAVE ROSALIE HAMMOND" in white text at the bottom.

"Oh... that's me."

Who had taken this picture? Martin? A concert attendee? We never allowed pictures when we boarded the tour bus.

I dared to venture further into the page as Martin passed the last few hotels on the Strip, reading people's posts and memes. Some were rather comedic from a religious point of view - "Papa's no Jesus, so why spread his word?" read one.

But then I scrolled down to a photo of Omega standing on stage, his arm extended out in a majestic sort of way as he played his guitar. This wasn't a meme, but a post of awareness.

Martin Romano said:

"These Nameless Ghouls are the root of all evil. You may think they are masked musicians, but in actuality these are the men abducting your women, forcing them into servitude, and wiping away all memories so they serve only for the unholy Ghost Project. I am rather close with Papa Emeritus, in reasons I will not disclose, but because of my connections I have experienced Ghost's rituals firsthand. I have even met with Rosalie Hammond herself, who has been imprisoned by the Church since October 2013.

"Thanks to everyone's hard work on this page, including that of page creator Damien Dresden, Rosalie will finally be returning home. She has been tortured, abused, and manipulated by this cult and its Nameless Ghouls, and we will bring her to justice. We stand by her."

"You... you wrote this?" I continued staring at the picture of Omega as my heart began to ache. "This is..."

"A little bit of a passionate rant, but yes," Martin replied, keeping his eyes on the road. "People care about you, Rosalie. They know you've been the Ghouls' courtesan and they want you out just as much as I do."

I quietly nodded and scrolled down to read the comments.

Nicole D'Aquino: You tell em, Martin!!   
Mark Rubik: Finally, get her away from those creeps.  
Susan Jones: Stand By Him! Not Satan, but God!

My mind drew a blank. For every worshipper, there is also a protestor. Not all people are on Ghost's side. Something about this was oddly encouraging, but a tingle in my brain told me not to believe them. Not because I thought these were fabricated lies, because they weren't, but because Papa would not approve.

I read one more comment. 

Allison Torres: You sure she really wants to leave, though? I heard a rumor that she fell in love with Omega (the Nameless Ghoul in the picture). That might get her in trouble...

Papa had a pattern when it came to renaming his girls. With Rosalie, there is also Rosalina. Verona, Veronica. Allison? Alessa.

"Uh... I'll look more at this later." I set the phone down on Martin's lap. "But I like this a lot. You guys have done so much."

"Like I said, group effort!" Martin said. "We've sort of become our own family, looking out for each other."

The night breeze flew in my hair as we sped down the highway, passing all the street lamps and the canyons. The roads Martin drove on were the same old roads I'd been accustomed to, familiar and unchanged, as if my neighborhood were stuck in a time loop dating back to October. Martin even stopped at the CVS near the historic downtown district so I could purchase my pregnancy test and other assorted items. If Papa wanted to give me money, it'd be used on important things, like a switchblade I'd keep in my cleavage and a lighter in case I needed to set any important fires in the future. Hey, it was best to be prepared for these kinds of situations.

"We're five minutes away," I said when I returned to the Ghost. I squinted at a distant smoke cloud fogging up the night sky. "Jesus, are they doing another controlled burn?"

"Let's hope so," Martin remarked as he drove into the subdivision where my house was located. My heart beat in relief as we passed by sights that reminded me of heading home from work - the mint-colored house that stuck out from the stucco-roofed houses surrounding it, the house where the two mothers lived with their toddler son who always rode his tricycle in the late afternoon.

Things really hadn't changed that much in the neighborhood. When you returned from somewhere like a grand beach resort or a theme park, you left behind a part of your soul there. Home didn't feel the same way it once did, and it took a week for you to remember that the garbage went on Wednesdays and your neighbor was celebrating their fifty-fifth birthday. Part of my soul was left behind at the abbey, but it was the Nameless Ghouls' possession now. Not once did it cross my mind that I was actually returning home, where I slept and lived like a normal person.

At the same time, bright flames peeked out from the tops of the palm trees, suggesting the fire we saw from CVS had been recently set.

Martin stopped the Ghost with a sudden jerk and turned toward me. Terror widened up his eyes and his lip trembled, guiltily.

“I don’t think we should go any further, Rosalie, for your safety."

"Why shouldn’t we go any closer?" I coughed into my fist, the harsh stench of the smoke wafting into my nostrils. This wouldn't be good for the baby at all. "My house is literally right at the corner.”

“Uh, Rosalie..."

Martin scrambled to retrieve his phone, showing me the map. The blue dot suggested we were here...

The two-story house on Browning Lane had become victim to the fire, engulfed in the flames, the owners' possessions reduced to nothing but ashes.

I ripped off my heels and pushed myself out of the Ghost, screaming as I stumbled and fell to my knees on the road. Police officers and crime scene photographers stood some feet nearby, searching for evidence and snapping photos as if this were a spectacle of some sort and not an innocent person's house burning down.

"Who are you?" A police officer, a woman in her forties and bright pink lipstick, approached me, grabbing me by my shoulders.

"I-I'm Rosalie Hammond... and that's my house!" The sob I let out rattled in my throat. "Who did this? I need to know!"

“Ms. Hammond, I'm so sorry.” The officer placed a sympathetic hand on my shoulder. “Right now, they're trying to figure out everything. We still don't know what happened yet."

"What about my dog?" I panted into my arm, trying not to inhale the smoke. "Her name is Snowball. Is she okay?"

"Yes, she's fine. We've talked to a few of the nearby houses and one of them took her in. I think they mentioned your boyfriend dropped her off?"

"Oh, thank God..."

“Hey, Barb." Another officer, an older man with a thick, black mustache, approached us. Something sleek and black rested in the officer's hands, something that looked very familiar to me… something I saw on an every day basis. "We found this down on the street back there. It looks like some crazy carnival mask.”

Looking at the Bauta mask made me want to die inside. 

“Huh, that’s unusual,” Barb remarked, taking the mask from her fellow officer. “It looks a little worn, but I don’t see any fingerprints. Hopefully this gives us a clue as to who set this house on fire.”

“Definitely an arsonist,” Jim remarked, looking back up at the flames. “One of the windows was bust open. Looks like a flamethrower was thrown in. They're saying the chaise longue caught on fire, and that's how it all started.” Jim then glanced over at me. “Oh, are you the homeowner?”

“One of them,” I wept, my hands muffling my words. "R-Rosalie Hammond, sir..."

“Man, I’m real sorry,” Jim said sympathetically. “I’m not sure how long you’ve been away from your home, but it’s almost shot. Everything’s gone.”

“Please, don’t remind me." My chest heaved so much it hurt. “They’ve taken everything away from me.”

This was all to remind me that I am Rosalina, the courtesan of the Nameless Ghouls and the bride of Papa Emeritus. I carry the Antichrist of the Church of Ghost inside my womb, and when I give birth to him, I shall give Papa more power. The Church of Ghost manipulated me into doing their bidding, and now, I’ll never be able to leave them, not even in a way where escaping Vegas would help. 

Papa mentioned that if Damien ever returned to the Church of Ghost, his mind would be inflamed with the guilt of sin.

And here was one now.


	32. Land of Broken Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unable to escape from the Church's wrath, Rosalie and Martin return to the Strip.

I ran back to the Ghost as fast as my feet could take me, collapsing onto the upholstered seat, panting breathlessly. I didn't how to feel - despair, anger, not surprised at all that this would eventually happen? This whole week had been nothing but a series of unfortunate events, one leading right to the next. Omega's child wouldn't be his. Damien and Berkeley were captured. And now, no one had anywhere to go except for the very place that started this whole chain.

I'm such a fucking idiot. A clueless, naive idiot who apparently couldn't read a person and their intentions. Curiosity led to my downfall. Curiosity led to _everyone's_ downfall. Ghost brought us all here. _Come together, together as a one,_ as Papa sang each night. The themes lured us in, ushering us right to Hell. How idiotic were we to forget we were actually being played?

Berkeley's words echoed in my mind. _It's kind of the new thing now, keeping your true self a secret!_

This small morsel of wisdom couldn't be any truer.

"Rosalie?" Martin held me in his arms. "I'm so sorry about your home. It's truly devastating to see—"

I pushed the chauffeur off of me.

"The police are going to think I'm insane if we don't leave now!" I glanced at the clock - 8:15 pm. "How far is the Church from here?"

"An hour and a half," Martin answered uneasily. 

"Fuck!" I banged my fists against the dashboard. "That fucking bastard! Just take me back to the Venetian. He's going to know!"

"But what about your—"

"Let's just go already before I get fucking slaughtered!"

By the time we returned to the Strip, 9:00 made its ungraceful presence.

Martin pulled into the valet parking section of the Venetian, his skin pale and his eyes wide. We both sat frozen in our seats, frozen in fear by the thought of returning to Papa. In the end, the choice was ours. We could always continue with our escape plan, but Papa would get extremely suspicious. With the monster awaiting us, we had no choice but to return to him before he found us himself.

A techno ringtone startled us.

Martin stumbled and picked up his phone, his face flushing as he glanced at the caller's name - Giuseppe.

Papa.

"H-hello?" Martin stammered like a frightened child.

" _Where is the girl?_ " An angry voice bellowed on the other line, so loud I could even hear. "Rosalina, what have you done with her? Why are you not here?!"

"I-I am in v-valet parking, s-sir. We just arrived. Traffic was a n-nightmare."

"Were my instructions not clear? I said Rosalina was to return here at nine o'clock! Nine, _ragazzo_!"

"Sir, I can find somewhere else for you and Rosalina to dine tonight."

"Where? Fucking McDonald's, where all the Americans go?"

I sighed deeply into the plastic CVS bag, focusing more on the crinkling sound than Papa's bullshit excuses. Such a drama queen, I wanted to think, as I slipped my new switchblade and lighter into my bra, but of course, being his fiancee, I actually had to feel bad for him. Boo hoo, our special dinner was ruined. Why did he fucking care so much? Just because Papa considered himself to be a celebrity doesn't mean he gets first billing for everything.

"Bring the girl back to me. Alone."

Call ended.

"What are we going to do now?" I asked uneasily. "There's nothing left."

"Don't worry," Martin said, although I knew he thought otherwise, as he now trembled in his seat. "The walk to the room is quite lengthy. We'll think of something."

"What about this?" I took the switchblade out of my bra, flicking the blade open. Fresh and shiny, the tip sharp.

"N-no!" Martin shouted. "We can't resort to murder!"

"Why not?" I looked at my reflection in the blade. "He's threatened to kill us several times. How come we can't do it too?"

"It'll easily get back to us. It's too convoluted of a plan."

"Then I've got another idea." I slipped the switchblade back into my bra. "How about I pretend to fire you?"

Martin gulped. "Uh... fire me?"

I nodded. "Who knows what Papa's going to do to you once we go back to the suite. If I pretend to fire you, I'd be letting you off the hook! It'll be a part of my act."

"O-okay... sounds like a plan."

"Just follow my lead."

We silently filed out of the Ghost like mourners at a funeral, solemnly reflecting upon our lives and what may happen in the next few minutes. The chilly air conditioning of the Grand Canal did nothing to help my nerves, but watching the smitten couples aboard the gondolas and listening to the pop music playing did ease my mind up a bit. I wish Omega would show me his face. Then, we'd be able to do things just as couples did together.

After fifteen minutes of walking, we reached the powdery-scented hallway of the Prima Suite. Martin's jittery hand reached for the key card in his breast pocket, his fingertips fumbling and scratching against the plastic surface.

I placed a hand on the chauffeur's shoulder. “Don’t take anything I'm about to say to you seriously. It’s all a part of the act. I’m scared, too.”

Martin nodded and inserted the key card. We stepped into the living room area of the suite, our footsteps sounding loud and heavy against the soft carpeting. 

“Papa? Your little darling is back! I’m so,  _so_  sorry I’m late! You can blame it all on Martin, that fucking—“

I swung open the bedroom door. The bed sat empty, and the bathroom as well, the lights dimmed. I checked the rest of the living room, and then the other bathroom - all were Papa free. 

“He's gone!” I gasped in relief. “We’ve got some time. Do you think he’s at the restaurant, though?”

“I’ll call the Canaletto now,” Martin replied, whipping out his phone. “He’s probably there waiting for you. Maybe he got his coveted reservation."

"I'll go do my business, then."

Martin nodded and got on the phone while I brought my pregnancy test into the bathroom. 

A few minutes later, as I waited anxiously for the results, I arranged my hair and cleaned off my makeup with a lavender soap and towel. I hoped the test would be negative. It would bide me more time to survive, at least. Once my belly started to swell, I'd become a ticking time bomb.

The pregnancy test now displayed a result. Gulping, I picked it up and brought it to my eyes.

Two lines.

"Where is she?"

The test stick fell from my hand and clattered onto the floor.

I quickly strapped on my heels and shuffled out of the bathroom. I stifled a gasp behind my hand. Papa pinned Martin against the wall, his hands wrapped around the chauffeur's neck in a choke hold. 

"Papa, stop!" I cried. "It wasn't his fault that we were late! The traffic was so bad out there—“

Papa immediately stopped his violence and turned to me, his face softening when he saw his faithful bride-to-be hadn't escaped after all.

"Oh, Rosalina!" Papa rushed to my side and kissed my cheek. His cologne was so strong I bit down on my lip to suppress a gag. "I am so sorry for Martin's insolence. He made you so late that we had to miss the special dinner I had planned for us at the Canaletto! It would've been perfect, Rosalina. We would've had access to several different wines, the cuisine of my homeland— It would've been glorious, just you and I. Martin must be punished for making you so late. What would you like me to do with—“

“Terminate him,” I hissed, my snide courtesan act returning to my frame of mind. I craned my head and gave Martin a look of sympathy. “He knew if we'd be late, he'd be fucked. So just let him off the hook. It's all his fault, after all."

“Very well, then,” Papa said slowly, glaring at Martin. "I can hire better chauffeurs than him, anyway. Martin, you're excused. Get the fuck out of here."

The chauffeur nodded, slowly making his way out of the suite.

Papa turned back to me.

"Now, Rosalina, I’d like to spend some time with you in the bedroom… alone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> 'ragazzo' - 'boy'


	33. Fear Is All You Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The true side of Papa comes out. Tw for sexual assault.

Papa took my hand and escorted me into the bedroom. The heavy suite door closed with a thud, sealing me inside my luxurious tomb.

"Did you enjoy your excursion, Rosalina?" Papa inquired. He closed the bedroom door, locking it to ensure we would be totally interrupted, and that I could not escape.

"Of course I did, Papa." It's not like I watched my house burn down or anything. "I... bought some new lingerie that I'm wearing right now."

"Let me see."

Papa slid the dress straps past my shoulders, pulling down my dress until it became a black, inky pool at my feet. He kissed my shoulder blades and my collar bones, his mustache brushing against the downy flesh as he nibbled, giving me marks.

"Ah, yes... black." His hands moved toward my breasts, fondling them in his hands. "A perfect choice, Rosalina."

"I-I knew you'd like it," I said with a nervous giggle.

"I'll like it better when it's completely off of you."

Papa ripped the bra right off of my body, freeing my breasts. He sprung back up to my chest and buried his face into my bare decolletage, grazing his lips along the plumpness of one breast before sucking a nipple, his tongue sliding across the pert, stiff bud.

I crossed my arms in front of my stomach. I didn't look pregnant, but Papa could easily believe the little pooch I had was a potential baby bump. This was the part I loathed the most, the foreplay. Since the threat of the Ghouls intruding upon us had vanished, who knew how passionate and wild Papa could be now.

"Yes, Rosalina..." Papa purred, sliding his hands down my hips and past my thighs. He slid a still-gloved hand into my panties and pressed firmly against my throbbing clit, arching his fingers as they gravitated toward my slit.

"Oh, Papa..." I sighed, his fingers easily finding that aching, wet spot that stood out the most. "R-right there, Papa..."

Papa remained silent, his mismatched eyes intently watching my weakening expression. A moan broke through our shared, awkward silence, a moan I didn't know was of denial or desire. His lascivious spell worked, he probably thought, but I would not succumb.

"This is what I've been waiting for since you became their courtesan," Papa whispered in my ear. "I have grown jealous of my boys. They're drawn to you, like a moth to the flame. Now, it is my turn to suckle from the light. I am their leader, your leader... so now, let us live _la dolce vita_ while we can. We're entitled to do whatever we wish now, Rosalina."

"B-but what about my Sisters?" I asked. "Verona, Alessa? They really love you."

"And that's not to say you do, too?" Papa's voice thinned. "Like I've told you, their time for retirement is on the horizon. I need someone new... someone like you. You're nothing short of perfection, Rosalina."

Papa was so infatuated with me becoming his bride and his Prime Mover, so obsessed that the Sisters were only a mere afterthought to him. My Sisters owed Papa their lives, while I would give anything to see this Ghoul's fame crumble. I remembered what Omega once told me - Alessa and Verona meant absolutely nothing to Papa, and they never did. He never sensed the innocence and naivety that he could use to break the virgin's heart and transform her into a woman of sin. That was why I was selected to become the mother of the Church of Ghost's Antichrist - because of how easy it would be to corrupt me and seduce me over to the dark, and then carelessly thrown away. Papa's power was at work, dragging me at my heels until I had no choice but to give in.

"Perfection doesn't exist," I fired back.

Papa looked up, his eyes flaring.

"I mean... even I'm prone to making mistakes," I quickly corrected myself. "Perfection's a pretty difficult thing to achieve, isn't it? Won't that make you go mad?"

Papa cleared his throat and pulled his hand out of my panties.

"Excuse me for a moment."

Papa left me standing next to the bed as he made his way into the bathroom. _Huh,_ I thought, _maybe he's having a hard time trying to get it up._

My eyes wandered around the room as my body broke out in a cold, nervous sweat - should I just give in and let temptation win? With Papa, I was supposed to be in love, but not the type where I felt respected and admired. He only loved the idea of me, his potential Prime Mover, the one who would bear him a child for his sickly satisfaction. But with his manipulative, twisted nature and ability to easily charm a woman, I couldn't help but feel... enraptured.

" _Che cazzo?!_ "

The bathroom door swung open. 

"What is this?" Papa shoved the pink, plastic stick in my face, forcing me to stare at the two lines that confirmed my fate. " _What is this?!_ "

The pregnancy test.

I forgot I left it on the floor.

"Who did it?" Papa grabbed onto my ankle and pulled me closer to the edge of the bed. "Which of my Ghouls fucked you so hard you became with child? Oh... I know." He smiled with a sick, toothy grin. "It's Omega, isn't it? He's your little lover boy. You are very close with him, aren't you?"

"N-no!" I swung my hands out to fight Papa away, but this only made his grip on my ankle tighter.

" _Bugiardo_!" Papa reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the desecrated Grucifix chain. "Explain this! Only Omega has made these for all those worshippers who dared to run away! Air told me, Rosalina. You're very close with him... you love him."

A wrist was pinned to the bed. One hand left, better well use it. 

"You never loved me at all, didn't you? You fell in love with one of my Ghouls, giving him all of the passion and admiration you would've given to me otherwise, and you love him so much he let you consummate the relationship? You are defying Mammon's power! You are merely a courtesan! Courtesans aren't supposed to fall in love, and my Ghouls aren't supposed to, either!"

I grabbed the switchblade in my bra and retracted the blade, sliding it against Papa's hand.

"And I was never supposed to fall in love with you, either!"  
  
" _Puttana_!" Blood seeped out of the cut in Papa's glove. " _Ti ucciderò, cazzo, puttana!_ "

I kicked Papa away from me, regaining the usage of my other hand. I ran to the door, my hands fumbling as I undid the lock, but before I could pry open the door to my freedom, Papa pulled on my arm, dragging me back to him.

"You're not going anywhere!" He marched me back to the mattress, carefully pushing me down. Of course, so he didn't lose his child. "No one is worthy of my love, no one! They all just leave..."

"Because you're a bitter, wounded, old man!" I shouted, clutching my switchblade in my hand. "No one will love a mind rapist like you!"

Someone had arrived. Security, I guessed, as the doorknob twisted steadily, to no avail.

Papa lumbered toward me, wrapping his hand around my ankle. His hand reached for the zipper on his trousers, about to free his cock.

Quick, get back into character!

"Papa, please." I switched back into my coquettish tone of voice. "I'll stay. We'll raise the baby, we won't tell the Ghouls."

" _Sta 'zitto!_ " Papa wrapped his hand around my throat. “No one will hear your insufferable cries! Let’s see if you truly can handle being fucked by this monster...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> 'che cazzo?' - 'what the fuck'  
> 'bugiardo' - 'liar'  
> 'puttana' - 'whore'  
> 'ti ucciderò, cazzo, puttana' - (roughly) 'i'll kill you, you fucking bitch'  
> 'sta 'zitto' - 'shut up'


	34. Breaking Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A deus ex machina appears.

But the pain never came.

The door to the bedroom burst open, crashing right into the wall. Two people cloaked entirely in black sped into the bedroom, approaching Papa with their gloved fists at the ready. One of them - the biggest and tallest - punched a hard blow to the side of Papa's bald head, pushing him down to the floor in a tackle as the other watched silently.

Papa struggled to get up and fight back, but I knew his feeble act of pressing his hand down onto the bed was feigned. The infilitrators didn't fall for this, thankfully, as they continued to whittle away at Papa, their hard smacks and punches stinging my soul. Should I help them? Should I call out to Papa, encouraging him to fight back?

"Hey!" I shouted, drawing out my switchblade. "Shouldn't you use this?"

The tall infiltrator looked back and shook his head, watching as Papa's head collided with the bedpost and eventually, the floor. A small pool of blood dripped down from a fresh cut on Papa's forehead, staining the cream-colored carpet red.

"Come with us." The second infiltrator held out her slender hand, staring at me through brown eyes coated in dark eye shadow underneath her balaclava. "Now that he's out, you've got nothing to worry about."

"Who are you?" I timidly approached the infiltrators as I reentered the room. "Do I know you?"

"I sure hope you do!" The infiltrator unraveled her balaclava, revealing her tawny face.

"Sister Verona?" I bent down and retrieved my dress. "How did you... why did you..."

"Long story," Verona said quickly. "I'll explain on the way back to the abbey. You still have the key, right?"

"Yes." I made a beeline toward my luggage and took the key out of the zipper compartment. "It's like my new prized possession now. I'm glad Papa didn't do anything with it!"

"He's out cold, Verona," the infiltrator who beat up Papa announced, his voice raspy. His blue eyes then shot up, linking with mine. "Are you all right, Rosalie?"

"O-Omega?" I stammered, unable to speak. Who knew how angry he'd be with me now.

The infiltrator - Omega - nodded. He seized one of the blankets off the bed and wrapped me in it, taking me into his arms. I buried my head into his chest as he carried me out of the bedroom, past the living room area, and into the hallway, Verona following behind us with my bag in hand.

Martin sat next to the door, rocking back and forth in an almost catatonic state of fear. He knew he'd gotten way too close with the enemy now, being against Ghost. His true colors were that of a coward's, black and bruise from suffering and abuse. At least Papa had no idea he secretly attended rituals like I figured Damien might've done. Then he'd really be the perfect sacrifice.

"You've got to come with us, Martin," Verona told the chauffeur reassuringly. "Omega and I have everything planned out."

"I can't, Sister Verona!" Martin shouted, looking up from his bent knees. "We will get in trouble with the law!"

"No, we won't. Papa can find his own way out from here. He's got his own support, and we'll be yours."

"How did you even get here?" I asked Verona.

"A few back entrances and the tour bus. I used to work here and a few other hotels. I know my way around. Thank Mammon we got here at the right time, otherwise..." She worriedly glanced back at the door. "Something horrible may have happened."

Verona led us to a fire exit, where we then climbed down the stairs from the fifteenth floor all the way to ground level. I shot my head up from Omega's chest and looked behind his shoulder every few minutes to see if Papa had somehow sprung back to consciousness and followed behind us. Omega's eyes were concentrated on the several flights of stairs, never blinking, while Verona and Martin discussed what had happened in murmurs in front of us.

"I know I was reckless."

My whisper startled Omega from his gaze, but he remained silent.

"I... thought I was doing the right thing. I wanted to leave to protect you... and the baby..." Guilty tears ran down my face. "Oh, Omega... I'm so sorry... for everything."

Omega brushed the hair out of my face. "I understand, Rosalie. We can talk about it when we get back to the abbey. We'll decide what to do about our future from there."

"O-our future?"

"Not just us, but the rest of my brothers. Now is the beginning of our new future away from that tyrant. Do you think our worshippers are going to support us since we essentially left Papa for dead?"

"Of course not."

"We're going into hiding. We've decided... Los Angeles, I think. We would've gone back to Sweden, but the funds simply aren't in our favor right now."

"Los Angeles..." I murmured. "I've always wanted to go there."

It was a good thing I already got my glimpse at the Venetian's Grand Canal, because the fire exit doors led us straight out of the hotel, back to where the escalator leading to the Palazzo hotel was. The band's tour bus waited off to the side, frost forming on the sleek, black skin in the February cold.

"Here's our stop," Verona remarked, stopping to catch a breath. "Damn, I haven't done that flight in forever."

"That was the worst," Omega added with a chuckle. "Martin, you heading back to valet?"

"Oh, yes..." Martin coughed and pulled his coat close to him. "I can't leave the Ghost waiting out in the dust. It'll blow our cover if Papa wakes up, wouldn't it?"

Verona nodded. "We're heading to Los Angeles tomorrow. So if you ever need to find us, that's where we'll be."

"I understand." Martin pulled his keys out of his coat. "Well, I better be going. Now that Papa's fired me, I need to find new employment elsewhere. I heard a few musicians were hiring."

The chauffeur turned to return to the Ghost.

“Martin, wait!”

I ran up behind Martin, taking out the thick wad of cash stowed away in my bra.

“Here.” I handed Martin the cash – ten fifty-dollar bills. “Take the rest of my money. I’ll give you your proper freedom, if that’s what you want. I can’t get my own, but if I have the power to give you yours, I’m going to use it. I’m happy for you, Martin. Really, I am. You deserve freedom much more than I do at this point.”

“Rosalie, thank you,” Martin said, his voice shaking. He gave me a tight hug, sincere and affectionate. “You don’t know how happy this makes me. I’ve got a wife and a little daughter at home. We’re starting to lose money because of her side of the family. They’re money-hungry savages, and they keep nipping at our funds and my wife’s bank account. I had to get a job as a chauffeur to save ourselves, and Papa didn’t understand how much spending time with my family means to me.”

“I’m glad I can help you.” A weak smile formed on my face as I held Martin's hands in mine, squeezing them. “You deserve it, you really do.”

"I'll inform you of any developments. I also... well, after what you've read on the Facebook page, you probably think a lot differently about me now."

I shook my head. "Don't worry about it. Just..." I leaned in to his ear. "Don't let anybody know where I am or what my affiliation with Ghost is now. Trust me, Papa will find out."

"I'll... keep my eye on Papa, too... we'll see if he manages to escape."

"I... the Church doesn't have a phone. They're quite archaic. Papa's the only one with a phone."

"Well, what do you know?" Omega approached my side and whipped out Papa's iPhone, seized from the hotel room. "Now we've got a method of communication."

"Oh, Omega, you're a genius!" I kissed the side of his mask. "Now we can finally live like modern people."

"My number's in there," Martin said quickly. "If you need anything at all, don't hesitate to ask."

The chauffeur then went off on his way.

Verona drove us back to the abbey. I lay against Omega's chest on one of the couches, staring out the window as I ran my finger along one of his rings mindlessly.

"So..." I murmured, taking his hand in mine. "I took a pregnancy test."

"And?" Omega asked, his voice slightly quivering.

"I'm indeed pregnant. Air was right all along."

Omega lifted his head up and stared at me with widened eyes.

"You... you really are?"

"I'm going to guess I'm a month and a half along. I'm not showing yet. But..." I sighed. "I guess now that Papa's going to be left out in the dust, we have time to really think over stuff. We don't really have to worry anymore. You know, now we can get our shit together."

"That's true. Just... our dream of escaping Papa's wrath has finally come. I'm so happy."

"Me too." I snuggled my head into his shoulder. "But I've learned that my freedom comes with a price. I'm not going to try and leave anymore. For you, Omega... because I really do love you. And I'm never going to leave you alone ever again."

"And I love you too, _min älskling_. _Per aspera ad astra_ , I will love you until the end of time."

"Per aspera ad astra..." It may have sounded very close to 'Per Aspera Ad Inferi', but while 'Per Aspera Ad Inferi' roughly meant through hardships to Hell, _per aspera ad astra_ meant through difficulties to the stars. With Omega personifying quintessence, the dark energy pulling us together, it fit the both of us perfectly. We'd fight this war against Papa and anyone who judged us together. 


	35. Ghosts Will Haunt My Bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As our heroes return to the Church, enemies stand in the way.

Twenty minutes later, Verona parked alongside the curb some feet away from the gate to the mansion. This was the first time I'd ever gotten a chance to observe the mansion's exterior, especially at night when the most unholiest of celebrations raged on around it. The mansion had the appearance of a grand yet miniature Gothic cathedral, abandoned and aged by the elements and time. The moonlight shining above hit the red, stained glass windows, forming shadows of devils and skeletons below on the dewy grass. People who drove by this place must've thought it was haunted, left alone for the ghosts to dwell in freedom. Little did they know of the darkness creeping inside, rarely able to see the light of day. It stuck out like a sore thumb against the humid, dry landscape of Nevada, a relic from Europe randomly placed on the ground.

Omega, Verona, and I arrived in the middle of one of Air's sermons. He lectured about the rivalry between good and evil, how supposedly God and Lucifer fought in an epic quarrel a very long time ago. I'd heard the sermon twice before from the confines of my room, practically having it memorized. In the end, Lucifer was cast from the pinnacle to the pit, but everyone said he severely lost the battle. Air taught it so that Lucifer reigned, but from a distance, away from the heavenly. The Bible was never taken seriously here.

Air's brown eyes glowered at us when he heard the doors creak open, distracting the attractive worshippers from their studies. They threw down their texts and rushed to my side, chanting my dreaded nickname - "Rosalina! Zombie Queen!" - touching my arms and hands, murmuring how much they missed me. I knew they were only fed lines by Papa, since they too had fallen for his charm, just like I almost did several times. Brainwashing must be Papa's favorite tactic, and scarily enough, it worked well.

“Where is Papa, Rosalina?” a shy voiced worshipper asked. Her whimsical purple mask wouldn't look too out of place at a renaissance festival. “Will he come to see us again soon?”

Speak of the Devil. I couldn’t just tell them I left him behind at the Venetian!

"He'll be back soon," I offered up. "He's recruiting new worshippers to join us!"

"Go, you are all dismissed," Air told his students in disgust. Once they exited the atrium, he came up to us. "What is the meaning of this? Did you escape plan not go forward, Rosalina?"

“Actually, I'm adding onto it,” I told him. “ _We're_  going to leave Las Vegas together. Besides, Omega’s told me you wanted to leave Papa for quite a while now.”

“Not all of us do," Air scoffed. "How will these plans be executed, then?”

We all gave each other blank stares.

"Th-the bus?" Verona said.

“Then who will be in charge of the concerts and the rituals? We cannot leave the worshippers hanging on a loose thread. They come to us for their salvation. What will we find in Hollywood, the city of inescapable pacts and false pretensions?"

"Hope." I took a step closer to Air. "The freedom we've all wanted. The show is over now." A strange feeling of protection was usurping me, like some type of control had come to me in this moment. Maybe it was an early sign of maternal instincts kicking in. “We have to do what’s right for the band, not what’s right for Papa. If Papa’s going to continually change the band’s purpose and try to control you guys, then we have to leave. It’s the best for us now.”

“So, since you are to become Papa’s wife, you think you are allowed to decide what is best for us?” Air asked me rather angrily. “The only thing of value that you provide is your body, nothing more. Your mind is just as invaluable as any other."

Omega slapped Air's arm. "Listen, old man. Going back to Sweden is out of the question. Sister will know! Rosalie has freed us from Papa's reign, Brother Air! We can finally be the Nameless Ghouls we truly are now!"

Air growled something under his breath as he rose from the ground and adjusted his mask, charging toward Omega like a sworn enemy. The two began bickering back and forth in Swedish, their postures suggesting that a serious altercation may soon happen if one of them didn’t shut up.

Verona gently took my arm and escorted me back to my bedroom, away from the action.

"Don't worry, Rosalie." Verona closed the door. "We're going to get out of here. Papa's out cold, he'll never know. And besides, he can't give out his name or affiliation because he's under oath not to reveal anything to the public. They'll just think he's crazy!"

"Huh, what a relief!" I chuckled, sitting down on my bed. "This is the best thing that's ever happened to me since coming here."

"What the fuck is going on downstairs?"

Alessa stumbled into the bedroom with a drunken lumber, a bottle of Unholy Grale in her shaky hand.

"Uh, no idea," Verona quickly replied. How would we explain this all to the most pious worshipper of the Church? "Omega and Air probably got into another fight again. It'll be over soon."

"Seriously, it looks like they're about to go into heat or something." The scarlet Sister's kohl-stained eyes narrowed in disgust when she saw me sitting on the bed. "What the fuck? You're back already? Where the hell is Papa?"

“Somewhere over the rainbow,” I said sardonically.

"Where the fuck is Papa?" Alessa jumped onto the bed and pulled me into a choke-hold, pressing her thumbs into my throat. “You fucking did something to him, I know you did!”

“He almost fucking raped me!” I choked out, pushing Alessa off of me. “He passed out at the Venetian, and Omega and Verona helped me get away from him! You can go and find him yourself, if you’d like.”

“Wow, some excuse that is! How is Papa supposed to carry out the show tomorrow, then? The fans will go crazy if he's not there!"

Verona charged toward my bookcase, swiped a hardback cover of Faust off the shelf, and smacked Alessa over the head with it, sending the redheaded Sister to the ground, unconscious just like her sugar daddy back at the Venetian. A look of pride spread on Verona's face.

“Holy shit, Verona,” I gasped. “Did you really—“

“Yup, and I’ve been waiting to do that for years now,” Verona replied proudly. “The cow’s letting madness get to her mind. She’s got to learn sooner or later that Papa’s only using us for his advantages.”

“She’s not going to need any medical attention for that concussion, is she?”

“Nope, but it’s a good thing she’s in the same state as Papa now, right?” Verona giggled. “She’s so corrupted with the thought that Papa loved her, but really, it’s the opposite. No one can please Papa and his perverted dreams, not even you.”

“Wow…” Just when I thought Verona was the loyal courtesan who’d never leave Papa’s side, she did a complete one-eighty degree turn and decided to join my side. Another friend in the hellhole meant an inch of the depression would go away, thankfully. “I’m sorry if I ever misjudged you, Sister. I had no idea you were playing Papa’s game as well.”

"Everyone in this damn place had to play Papa's game. It's time that we start to end it." Verona squeezed my hand. "You ready to see Damien?"

"I..." I nearly lost my breath. "I'm scared. What if..."

Verona sat down next to me. "This is the first step to really letting go. It's not going to be easy, I'll admit. But this is for their safety."

"Right." I took a deep breath and took the key out of my bra. "Let's go."


	36. Free Bird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosalie lets her past go.

Everyone feared to be sent to the dungeons. Papa is not a pitiful man - if you didn't please him, you were sent here, trapped to die of dehydration. Sometimes, if you were quiet enough, you could hear the screams and cries of the prisoners, so sharp they cut right through you. No other torture could cause as much pain than to be alone in the dark, maddened by the virgins corralled up like livestock screeching Ghost lyrics at the top of their lungs, waiting for the moment when they'd be let free to their salvation.

"There we go." Verona slid the key into the lock guarding the entrance and rattled the rusty, metal door open. "I'll stand guard for you. If anything goes wrong, feel free to call for me."

I nodded. After a moment of hesitation, I stepped inside, the underground cold chilling my flesh. A coppery scent lingered in the air, combined with another smell, sick and sweet and putrid. I passed by the empty cells as I walked down the narrow hallway, solemnly remembering the people that died down here. I wondered if I would've been trapped here in a cell if I had defied Papa any earlier. Someone like me may have been imprisoned here too, banished to the underground because she couldn't perform her so-called destined task of being the Prime Mover. There were others like me - Omega had mentioned them before - but they failed to conceive before their time was up. A cold shot ran down my spine at the thought.

The further I descended, the more audible the distant echoes of screams filled the air. The cells became occupied by living, breathing people, potential sacrifices for rituals. A man, his eyes hollow and his skin pale, noticed me pass, shaking the bars as his life depended upon them. A woman, her makeup faded, shot me glares as she sat huddled in the corner of her cell, her cheeks stained with days-old eyeliner.

They were not alone. Twenty to thirty girls sat nearly packed to the brim in three cells, wearing frightened eyes and tear-stained faces. One even wore a faded Ghost t-shirt and huddled her knees to her chest, her own cries being ignored by her fellow prisoners.

"Get us out of here, Zombie Queen!"

The girls shook the bars, clamoring for my attention. They sang 'Ghuleh', their voices a grating, shrill cacophony that rattled my eardrums.

A man further down the hallway groaned in annoyance.

"Jesus Christ, I've heard that song twenty-thousand times today!"

I'd recognize that Brooklyn accent from anywhere.

"Mr. Berkeley?"

I rushed to the cell where Berkeley and Damien were being held, the last one to the right of the hallway. To put it bluntly, their appearances were far more unkempt and sickly than the virgins, and they'd only been down here for a day. Both their hair was greasy, drooping over their eyes like wilted flowers, and their skin developed a pale pallor, grime and blood patched on their skin like battle scars. Fresh bruises were scattered over their arms and legs, and they sat huddled in their torn cloaks, ripped in various spots.

"Oh, look who it is." Berkeley looked me up and down with disdain. "It's Mama Emeritus."

"Don't call me that." I knelt down to the cell, careful not to touch the rusty bars. "I never want to be reminded of that monster ever again."

"Where is he?" Damien asked. Judging by the slight crease in his eye, he wasn't very happy to hear me talking about Papa.

"He's not here, but it doesn't matter. Now I can openly tell you guys everything that's happened to me here!"

"Like what, Rose?" Damien snapped. "That you fell for another guy? A masked guy whose real name you don't even know?"

"Damien, that's besides the point. Omega's a nice guy. He's the only person who treated me with kindness in this godforsaken place! It's not easy to remain loyal when you've been in captivity for four months straight! You won't believe the things I've been through!"

"Go on, Hammond," Berkeley said reassuringly. "I'm all ears."

"Well, where do I start?" I paused for a moment. "Papa's nearly raped me several times. He had one of the Ghouls whip me and another tattoo their freaking branding symbol on my navel. He forced me to undergo this weird-ass 'initiation ceremony' and now he's forcing me to marry him! And he's burned our fucking house down, Damien, all because of what went down last night!"

"They burned down the fucking house?!" Damien's eyes went wide with horror. 

"Martin drove me when he took me and Papa to the Strip. I told him to stop by the house... and... it's gone, Damien! It's fucking ashes!" Tears streamed down my cheeks. "See what I mean? I can't leave the Church of Ghost! What do you think will happen if I go with you? The Ghost Project has ways of finding the people who've escaped from them. They will bring you back here and kill you. And it's not like anyone would believe our stories, either. Everyone thinks Ghost is just a mediocre rock band, when really they're something bigger. This place is a cult!"

"And so they've indoctrinated you?" Berkeley asked loudly.

"Well... technically, they did. Plus, Papa had me be the Ghouls' courtesan to impregnate me, and... they succeeded."

"What?!" Damien slammed his hand against the bars. "Rose, no!"

"So now I'm really in deep shit if I get out of here! Even though we knocked out Papa he can still come back! I can't escape from him and I never will!"

Damien reached out his arm and stroked my wet face. I missed his warm touch so much. During my anxiety attacks, he always held me close and never let go until I was ready. He wiped away all my tears and kissed my cheeks, ensuring me that everything would be all right.

"I was so afraid to tell you everything, Damien," I croaked. "I thought you'd be mad."

"I'm not mad, Rose," Damien said shakily. "Just... shocked. They set our house on fire. They put you through Hell and back. In despite of everything that's happened, I want to help you."

"Me too, Hammond," Berkeley added sympathetically. "I've got good lawyers. We can settle this in court. That fire's gonna get Papa's fucking ass in jail, that's for sure."

"No, Sam." I shook my head. "We can't bring this to the law. Papa's practically got diplomatic immunity. They'll never be able to stop him." I turned back to Damien. "Martin's told me all about your Facebook page. You've done a brilliant job raising awareness, Damien."

"I did it for you," Damien said.

"I know you did. I saw that picture. It feels good knowing I have support from other people." I looked down at my hands folded in my lap. "It's too bad they'll never get to know."

"I'll tell them. So many people have asked me about you."

"No, Damien, you can't. I don't want them to know what I'm about to tell you."

"Is this about that Omega guy?"

"A little more than that." Now, I couldn't even look in his eyes. "I'm torn. That's all I'll tell you. I’m torn over whose side I should be on. The Church of Ghost has saved me, they let you live, and that’s what matters most to me. Omega, the rhythm guitarist… he has protected me, and I owe him my life now. I’m sorry, Damien, but you wanted for the truth, and that was it. I love you, but... there's no going back."

Damien lowered his head.

"I understand, Rose."

"Do you?" I looked up at him, eyes foggy.

"Yes. It's not easy to survive in a place that's imprisoned you, but love is the only thing that kept you who you are. Verona's told me stories about you and Omega. He's so happy to be with you, and you with him. He really did save your life."

"See? I'm so glad you get it, Damien. Really, I am." I stared down at his hands now. "We're... we're going to Los Angeles tomorrow. I want you two to come with me. Not too close, but... within distance so I know you two are there for me."

"I can't close up shop, Hammond," Berkeley said sadly. "Sales aren't doing any better. But somewhere down the line, I'll think about it."

"I can try," Damien added. "Once I figure out what I'm doing about the house. We can meet up every month or so."

"That would be nice." I smiled. "Now that Papa's gone, I've got a little more freedom to go out and about, I think. I don't know about the Ghouls, though. They're mostly cloistered."

"People will know your story, Hammond." Berkeley straightened up, leaning his face close to the bars. "They'll remember you as the girl who defied those lunatic Satanists."

"Sam, please..." I slowly shook my head. "If you have to tell my story, absolutely have to, tell them to remember me as the Church of Ghost's martyr. The one who lived to tell the tale. There's the article I promised you. Don't forget to put my name on it."

I took out the key and unlocked the cell.

"I'm so sorry things had to end this way."

Berkeley opened the cell door, letting Damien first. My ex-boyfriend gently swept me up in a hug, running his hand up and down my back. Damien's hugs, while weaker than Omega's, were still tight, a sign of his affection.

"You don't have to apologize, Rose," Damien whispered. "I... don't want to say this is the safest option, but..."

"It is." I completed his sentence. "I don't want you or Sam to be hunted down. They already got our fucking house. I don't want you going away, too. You must keep low, or he'll find you. You've got to close that page down. He'll know you're running it."

"I..." Damien didn't necessarily agree to that idea.

"Damien, it's for the best. Please. At least until this passes over."

"I'll do it for you, Rose."

"And Sam?" I turned to my former boss. "Keep that plaque on the door for me, will you?"

"You bet I will, Rosie," Berkeley said with a little chuckle, "in your honor."

"I'll walk you two out."

Damien and I walked hand in hand, while Berkeley followed behind us. I couldn't believe things ended so easily. This could've been a lot worse - arguments, disagreements. Everything went swimmingly, much to my surprise.

We eventually reached the entrance. Verona stood, waiting, happy to see Damien and Berkeley return unscathed.

"There you guys are." She smiled at them. "We're happy to see you unharmed."

"So, I don't have to worry about any funeral costs?" Berkeley joked.

Verona chuckled. "No. Papa won't suspect a thing if we play our cards right."

"Hopefully you're right," Damien said. He turned back to me. "Keep in touch with me however you can, all right, Rose?"

"You bet, bud." I hugged him again, not minding the dirt on his cloak. "It might be a little hard, but I'll try to come up with a pseudonym so I contact you without Papa knowing. It'll probably be something you'd find as my old mySpace url."

Damien laughed. "You haven't lost your humor, Rose."

"And she hasn't lost her fire, either," Verona added.

"Hey, Rosie, don't I get a hug, too?" Berkeley asked, pathetically holding out his arms.

"Oh, all right."

I trudged over to Sam and hugged him.

"Be safe out there, Rosie. Please. For ol' Berk's sake."

"I will. But please be careful yourself. He's still watching us."

Berkeley nodded. He approached Damien and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"We gotta hit the road, buddy boy. Blare some Lynyrd Skynyrd as we fly down the interstate. You can even stay with me while we work this shit out."

The two comrades walked past the Baphomet statue, embarking on their new destination to a life of camaderie and a shared passion for rock and roll.

"It wasn't that hard, was it?" Verona asked me as we watched the two walk off together.

"Surprisingly, no," I replied. "I feel like a huge brick just got lifted off my shoulders. I think I made the right choice."

"You did, Rose. You shouldn't regret this. The healing will be a process, but once it's done... everything will be back to normal. It'll work out in the end, you'll see."

If you'd seen your fair share of comedies and romantic films, you'd think this mutual break-up was the perfect end to a tragic story. The guy didn't get the girl in the end, but that's all right. He's got a new life to lead.

An inkling of suspicion in my heart, however, warned me that this was far from the end of Papa Emeritus the second's tyranny...


	37. Interlude: An Article from Rock Uncovered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four months have passed since Rosalie and the band escaped from Papa Emeritus. Rock Uncovered's newest reporter shares the details.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a bonus chapter summing up what's happened after Rosalie and company left for Hollywood, in the style of an online article.

THROUGH HARDSHIPS TO HELL, AND BACK AGAIN – A ROCK UNCOVERED EXCLUSIVE

**BY DAMIEN DRESDEN FOR ROCKUNCOVERED.COM ON JUNE 14TH, 2014.**

Ghost - you either love them or hate them. Their kitschy Satanic lyrics and catchy riffs have appealed to the congregation since their first record Opus Eponymous. The band has been quite tight-lipped ever since the sudden disappearance of lead singer Papa Emeritus II, but Ghost's loyal fandom continues to stand by them. Amidst rumors of ritualistic behaviors, scandalous after parties, and the abduction of twenty-four year old former Rock Uncovered reporter Rosalie Hammond, Ghost still reigns as the king of Satanic music.

"We've evolved since Papa's disappearance," says new frontwoman Astrid Marcato. I met up with her at a Los Angeles coffee shop before a performance at the House of Blues Sunset Strip. "Every night, we get asked where he is, but we kind of just shrug it off. He had to take a break. The guy's old."

The clergy has chosen Los Angeles as their new headquarters, touring around Hollywood and nearby areas every weekend to perform their Satanic psalms. Astrid doesn't take on the costume and skeletal makeup of Papa, but her sexy alto and a simple bat of her smoky eyes does the trick. The worshippers are enamored by her sultry appearance, despite Astrid being several months into her pregnancy.

"I won't tell you if it's Papa's or not," Astrid tells me with a smirk. "You know that song of his, Prime Mover? We don't even think about that becoming a reality around these parts. Those days are over."

 **See also:**  "Ghost Begins Limited Engagement at Mandalay Bay"


	38. Ghostly Echoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Los Angeles, Rosalie receives a suspicious letter in the midst of her growing fame.

**JULY 2014**

**LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA**

Fame. Power _. Control._

Just a few months ago, I served as the Nameless Ghouls' courtesan, giving them sex and receiving their love and devotion in return. In the months that passed since we left Las Vegas, Papa didn't even bother to show his old face. Did he not care about his boys anymore, even as they were unleashed without the only leader they knew? Nameless Ghouls are lost without their master. How else could they spread their hymns without the proper singer?

Enter Astrid Marcato - my new alter ego. No more Rosalina.

Omega helped me come up with my new name.

"It means divine strength in Swedish, which is certainly what you have, _min kärlek_."

Indeed I did. The old fool had no room in my life, or anyone else's, anymore. We quickly abandoned the Rosemary’s Baby plot when we arrived in Los Angeles, and so were Papa's old values and beliefs of hardcore theistic Satanism. We took a more spiritual approach instead, for Satanism is about achieving goals for your own self, to not be afraid of indulgence. That is, indulgence with consent. To fully enjoy pleasure, consent must be given by both parties involved.

The Ghouls must've spent hours apologizing to me and even Verona for their cruel behavior and the ways they hurt me back in Vegas. We worked as a unit now, getting things done together. Rituals were planned and songs were written, more rainy day material than upcoming album stuff. We even bonded over stories we told of our past lives, fond memories and reminiscing. I finally learned to see the Ghouls not as monsters, but as people merely cursed to stay within the darkness forever.

Magazines and websites were quick to report Papa's disappearance and my new role in the band. Any recent mention of the band almost completely ignored his existence, much to my amusement, and instead placed me in the spotlight as a 'rising star in the rock industry.' Universal Records even contacted us, requesting that we record a compilation album with me singing the popular hymns, but I had to decline. There simply wasn't any time in between concerts and rituals for us to redo an entire record that sounded great as it was, despite the monster's presence.

Damien took my role at Rock Uncovered, interviewing bands in my place. We met once a month at a patisserie deep in the heart of Hollywood, since of course, I craved sweets throughout my pregnancy. Thankfully, Damien had been doing very well since the fire. Although still living with Berkeley, Damien was looking into renting a studio apartment in Fresno with some of his old college friends and dabbling in some freelance, hipster journalism. He always discussed his dream when we used to live together, wanting to break free from working at a theme park-hotel to pursue something meaningful.

“You won’t regret becoming a journalist,” I told him last week over coffee and donuts. “Don’t forget to be honest. Let the people know your honest opinions. And don’t slap an over-saturated Instagram filter on your photos.”

“And what’s been up with you and the Ghouls?” Damien asked me, swirling around his black, plastic stirrer in his coffee. “Any news of Papa coming back?”

“Nope! Which I’m surprised, really. I guess he’s taking his sweet time trying to find us.”

“What about the kiddo?”

I smiled and ran a hand over my swollen belly. Although I neared the seventh-month mark of my pregnancy, I did look a bit bigger than the average woman in their second trimester.

“It’s a girl.”

Luce, a young worshipper and nurse who always wore black and covered her hair in a kerchief like a nun, visited the new abbey once a month to check up on me and my child. She didn’t use modern technology like ultrasounds, but rather consulted upon her premonitions as a clairvoyant to determine information.

“Astrid is carrying a girl… a healthy, little girl free of demonic interference and unholy wishes. She will arrive in the ides of September, when the moon descends into its last quarter, and no earlier or later than that.”

“A girl…” Omega sniffled, his eyes teary and red from crying. He still feared that Papa would return and claim the child he destined to be the Antichrist of the Ghost Project. “She will be safe. Mammon has blessed us.”

“Congrats, Rosalie!” Damien leaned over the table and squeezed my hands. “A girl… so that means none of that Prime Mover shit is going to happen then, is it?”

“We’re safe for now,” I clarified. “But nobody can guess when or if Papa will return.”

Today, Verona sauntered into my boudoir carrying a small stack of envelopes. She still played her part as a dutiful Sister of Sin, even doing some backing vocal work here and there. As her loyalty for Papa fizzled, she proved herself to be a true friend. We usually sat down and giggled over fan mail, which usually consisted of lewd fanfiction and letters from men asking to be the father of my child. Let’s just say the fantasies of Papa having sex with Alpha or Air being a secret cat owner humored us in this relatively dark time of confusion and self doubt, stuck in the void of where we’d be come next month.

Martin still kept in touch with us, too, though he and Damien stopped updating Vegas Against Ghost B.C., handing over the administration rights to new users. The last time I heard from Martin, Papa and Alessa were spotted once again on the Strip, partying at the Extra Lounge as if Papa still had any youthful vigor left in him. Maybe in the wake of our escape, Papa groomed Alessa to take over my place as the Prime Mover.

It surprised me that Papa didn’t even bother to try finding us in Los Angeles – did he even know we were here in the first place? Papa never paid attention to the tabloids, but he did have some of the worshippers inform him of any slander. With rock magazines publicizing our shows, he was bound to figure out where we were sooner or later. After all, that’s why I rarely did interviews. I didn’t need another ghostly echo of my past to confront me once again.

 _Papa’s never coming back,_ I reminded myself every night as I slept in Omega’s arms, his hand resting over the spot where our daughter occasionally kept her foot. Papa never cared about me or the Ghouls as people, more like vessels for his purpose.

I came across a black envelope sealed with a wax stamp engraved with the Grucifix. “Probably a passionate fan,” I remarked as I opened the envelope, a sheet of parchment falling into my hands. Red ink seeped through the paper like blood, and the words were carefully written in an almost stylized manner. 

_Rosalina,_

_Thanks to some reliable sources of mine, I have finally found you and the Ghouls. It may have been months since we’ve last seen each other, but we will finally be reconciled again despite our differences in the past. I am ready to return to you, and hopefully, you will feel the same. I am not the monster you think I am anymore. Sister Alessa has taught me the best way to win a woman's heart is by worshipping the ground she walks on. To hear her every word as if it were a prayer and to obey her every command. These things will help me win back your heart, Rosalina, and I will ensure that I do._

_Sister Alessa and I will be flying into Los Angeles on Friday night, just in time to hear your sweet voice sing the tunes I have written. I desire to hear you, feel you, and see you once more, for like I have told you, you are the only one truly worthy of my love._

_Yours,_  
_E._

I slammed the letter down on my makeup table, chortling hysterically. What a fucking liar! Why did he have the nerve to completely abandon the Ghouls and I for several months, only to suddenly return? Unless he was trying to lure me into a false sense of safety, I knew this time around, I wouldn't be the weak one in his game.

Yet, a small inkling of fear inside my mind nabbed at me. Maybe Papa told the Ghouls about the abandoned chapel and told them to take residence here so he would follow within a matter of months. He wanted to fill me with hope that he was gone, yet to return at the worst possible moment. He will not come back to take away my child like some goblin in a fairytale, or turn me back into the submissive, weak girl that I used to be.

_He will not come back._

"Rose, I haven't seen you laugh in ages!" Verona exclaimed. "What's so funny?"

"Get this!" I handed her the letter. "Papa's saying he's coming to our show Friday night with Alessa! Like, does this guy seriously think that I'm still the weak, fragile courtesan from several months ago? He hasn't been here to see my evolution. Look at me now.  _I'm_  the one ordering around the Ghouls!"

"You've got a point," Verona said as she perused through the letter, "but this looks pretty legit. I remember what Papa's handwriting looks like, and this is cutting it close. I hate saying this, but did it really take him that long to figure out we’re still in business?”

"Of course Papa would know that we're still performing. I mean look at Rock Uncovered. They’re advertising us like crazy! But does he know where we reside now? The fans that show up are the ones that show their undying devotion to us, no matter if Papa was here or not. They wouldn’t tell Papa where we are!"

"None of the Ghouls have been talking to Papa since we got here, right?"

"I don't think so. And even if they were, their asses would've been kicked out by now. I don't tolerate treachery, you know."

"So how are we going to find out if our Ghouls are still loyal to us, and us alone?”

"I have my ways." I gave my Sister a proud smirk. With the knowledge I’ve been taught from Air’s unorthodox sexual practices, I’d finally have the chance to show my Ghouls who had the true authority here. Nowadays, this was my only way to attain pleasure.

At first, Verona was confused by my remark, but as she put two and two together, she burst out into laughter. "Oh, I get it! Air's taught you quite a lot, huh?"

“More than I should probably know,” I giggled. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about that Ghoul, it’s that pleasure comes in all different forms, even if some do involve a little bit of pain.”

“Is there anything you’ll need me to get from him?”

“Hmm…” I licked my lips thoughtfully. “I might need a strand of chains or two, maybe some wax. Oh! And definitely a nice, sturdy flogger.”

“Damn, Rose, this sounds like it’s going to be brutal.”

“Brutal, yes, but it’s for the best.” The laugh I let out was eerily reminiscent of Papa’s whenever he watched me struggle or try to escape from his wiles. “If we want information from the Ghouls, we’re going to have to act upon  _their_  urges to get it. It’s the only way this is going to work.”

“Oh, Rose, I’m so proud of you!” Verona wrapped her arms around me. “Ever since Papa’s been gone, you’ve been finding your strength and your confidence. Showing the Ghouls just who’s boss around here now… it’s going to be beautiful, although in a really creepy way.”

I chortled. “Why thank you, Sister.” I kissed her cheek, catching a whiff of her usual jasmine perfume. “And your lessons from the past have definitely helped me out, too. Now, I think we’ve got a show to put on for our loyal worshippers.”


	39. Take Me Through the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosalie requests Alpha's assistance.

After we returned from the House of Blues, I mentally played 'eenie meenie miney mo' with myself while I examined my Ghouls sitting in the tour bus. So far, I ruled out Earth, Omega, and Water, leaving two Ghouls behind; ironically, the ones that loved to torture me the most. Being dominant to the Air Ghoul would be absolutely hilarious, his comeuppance against his twisted complex of master and servant, but Alpha intrigued me more. I'd love to see how the malevolent Ghoul could crumble under my newfound power.

Alpha’s stony, blue-eyed gaze caught mine as I watched him tune his acoustic guitar, easing out the awkward silence on the bus. I smiled widely at him; the Ghoul had no idea what was coming. All these months of him thinking that he was always the dominant one would be proven wrong tonight. I anticipated the moment when he’d squirm in his chains, begging to be freed, much like when I was his victim in the dungeons. Imagining the sound of his yells as the hot wax dripped on his bare chest gave me delight, so much I had to stifle my laughter.

The bus came to a halt, stopping in front of the chapel. With no lights outside whatsoever and the gardening unkempt, no one besides our most loyal of worshippers knew this is where we thrived. It was a good way to throw off groupies in their desperate search to fuck us, or exploiters who wanted to reveal our whereabouts for the tabloids. If Papa and Alessa indeed found us in the next few days, I’d be really concerned as to how they found our sanctuary.

“Alpha,” I said coyly to the Fire Ghoul, placing a hand on his shoulder, “I’m going to need you tonight.”

His eyes widened behind his mask, almost like he was concerned that I was even asking him such a thing.

"But mistress, you’re preg—“

I chortled and folded my hands under my belly. “Oh, don’t worry about me or the baby. We’ll both be fine. I’ve just decided to experiment with some new ideas, and you’re the lucky Ghoul I’ve picked to join me. Just be warned that they might be a little… intense than what you’re used to, especially coming from me.”

“Oh, uh…” Alpha stumbled over his words. He was the Ghoul that came to me first, so he wasn’t used to me suddenly turning the tables. “I would be pleased to join you tonight, mistress. Where shall I meet you?”

 _Mistress._  It brought me chills whenever the Ghouls called me that.

“Oh, you’ll find out in a little while, and you don’t need to bring anything. Just your usual fiery, aggressive nature is all I’ll need from you tonight.”

“I… I understand completely, Rosalina.”

I grinned like the Cheshire cat. “Good, Alpha. I’m glad you understand.”

* * *

 

“You didn’t tell me  _this_  was the kind of idea you had, Rosalina!” 

Fifteen minutes later, I stripped Alpha to nothing but his boxers, hood, and mask and tied his wrists and ankles to my bedposts with the strongest of Air's chains. I giggled almost maniacally at his attempts to break his bounds, ignoring his Swedish swears and grunts which, quite frankly, turned me on.

"Alpha, what did I tell you about persisting?" I asked icily, stroking his bare chest with the strands of moose hide hanging from my flogger. "I told you, the only way we're going to get through this is if we work together to test out our limits! Funnily enough, I thought you had none. So why are you being so much of a whiner?"

“Rosalina, _please_ ,” Alpha groaned, squirming.

 “Ah, ah, ah… I told you to use our safety word for permission to speak, you know. Don’t you remember what it was?”

“Uh…  _Ghuleh_?”

“No!” I smacked the moose hide against Alpha’s chest. He groaned and shook like a scared cat, clenching his eyes shut as he endured the pain. “It’s  _Senzafine_ , remember? Like my song? Now shut up or else I’ll gag you.”

“Uh… whatever you say, mistress.”

I stood in my spot for a minute, watching over my Ghoul. I made Alpha strip down to only his boxers, and it didn't take him too long to have an erection. What turned him on so suddenly if I wasn't on his receiving end this time around? He had nothing to look at in my darkened, lit-by-candlelight bedroom except for me. I had stripped down to only my black lacy bra and panties, to tease him. No wonder why the Ghouls were staring at my tits so much lately; they had increased in size, full of mother's milk. 

I knew the sight of me nearly nude and swollen was what made Alpha go hard. I admired myself in the mirror before retrieving Alpha, and for a woman almost seven months pregnant, I looked  _good_. The black lace fringing on the bottom of my bra and the top of my panties framed my belly, a nice visual for the Ghouls whenever they were lucky to see me like this. Of course, Omega saw me like this every single night, and I’ll admit, the sounds of his displeased groans that I was too fragile to fuck made me laugh so hard.

“What’s it you’re looking at, Alpha?” I took a step toward Alpha. “It’s me, isn’t it? Don’t you want to fuck me? Well, I’m sorry to say, but you  _can’t_.” I slapped the flogger against Alpha's thigh. He gasped at the sting, but I ignored him, letting the moose hide strands trail against the red spots forming on his pale, grayish skin. “You’re such a horny little Ghoul, huh? Out of all the girls and virgins that visit us, you want to fuck a  _pregnant_  woman?”

“I apologize, mistress!” Alpha’s words came out like pleading shouts. God, since when was he this vulnerable? It felt almost unnatural. “Please, let me go… I’ll never force myself upon you ever again!”

“No, Alpha.” I tugged on the chin of his Bauta mask. “I’m only teaching you a lesson here. Air taught me that with pleasure must come pain, and you Ghouls have been too spoiled with the former.  _That_ is why I chose you to be my special guest tonight.”

“ _Fan_ , Rosalina, I’m sorry! Just let me out of here, I understand!”

“I will, if you answer a couple of questions for me.” I can’t get too distracted from the mission at hand here.

“Yy-yes mistress, I’ll answer your questions.”

I circled around Alpha’s hanging body. “In case you haven’t heard, I’ve received a suspicious letter in the fan mail pile today, a letter from a certain person who calls himself… E?”

“I don’t know who that is,” Alpha mumbled.

“Of course you do! It’s Papa, don’t you know that? He wrote that he and Alessa know where we are now! I think you’re behind this, Alpha. I know how much you like to fuck with my head.”

“Rosalina, no! I didn’t do anything!”

“Then confess,” I seethed. “Tell me right now that you didn’t tell Papa and Alessa where we are through any means.”

“I… didn’t… speak to either of them at all since we’ve moved here. I have practically lost all contact with the outside world since Martin showed us this chapel. Please, believe me, mistress. I have not uttered a single word, and I do not wish to harm you.”

For the first time ever, Alpha’s usual cold gaze was watery and pleading. The flames had burned out inside of him, replaced by a smoke that held remnants of the fire that raged through him. I took a deep sigh and shook my head. Perhaps I’d lashed out at Alpha a little too much than what I planned to do. With my power must come control, and it’s something I still needed to learn. Right now was only the experimental phase, and there was plenty of time to change.

“Color me surprised,” I remarked with a scoff. “Although I’ll admit, you’re pretty good with pleading your side of the argument. I appreciate your loyalty, so I think you deserve a prize."

“Thank fuck,” I heard Alpha sigh under his breath.

I unchained Alpha and gestured for him to sit up on the bed. I stood in front of him, inching in closer, his sweaty chest grazing against my stomach.

“Touch me, Alpha.”

“Tt-touch you, mistress?”

“Yes, Alpha. You’ve been staring at my belly since you’ve gotten here, and I know you’re eager to touch me.” I lowered my hand down and stroked his thick, pulsing cock. “Yes… you’re getting hard knowing that I’m giving you the chance. You’re jealous, aren’t you? You know you aren’t my daughter’s father. It makes you  _mad._ ”

Alpha’s breaths stiffened. “No. I think Omega will be a good father.”

“Oh shut it, Alpha, I know how you are. You’re always so fueled by jealousy and anger. You’ve fucked me countless times so you could try and be my child’s father. You endlessly think about it at night, and it makes you so enraged that you lost.”

My taunts only made his cock harder. "Rosalina, shut the fuck up!"

"Do I have to get the flogger again?" I threatened, running my hand down Alpha's thigh. "You'll never feel the pride Omega has, knowing I’m carrying his daughter inside of me. I know you stare at me like this, wishing that  _you_  were the lucky Ghoul to have a child, and how victorious you'd feel if I gave birth to your flesh and blood. But you'll never know the feeling, Alpha." I rested my lips against the nape of his stubbly neck. "You never will."

Alpha's aroused groans resonated throughout the room, and I giggled. Victory. I had gotten the ruthless Fire Ghoul to succumb to my rule, and my control. Now, he will know what it feels like to be the hunted and the prey.

I took one of Alpha’s arms and placed his calloused hand on my belly. "There. That wasn't too difficult, was it? You were just shy."

“I am  _not_  shy!”

But the Fire Ghoul’s fingers trembled, running along the soft, taut flesh he craved to touch. My daughter kicked against Alpha's touch, recognizing it as quickly as she did with Omega’s.

“See, Alpha, she likes you. Why don’t you say hello? She can hear you.”

“I, uh…  _hej,_  little Ghuleh. It’s your uncle, the Fire Ghoul… Uncle Alpha.”

I laughed at the title. “Uncle Alpha? Fuck, Alpha, that’s a little bit of a strong statement.” I carefully undid his chains, and Alpha fell to his knees with a thud. “Now the game is done. _Senzafine_.”

" _Senzafine,_ " Alpha repeated. "I'm going to be honest with you, Rosalina. You let the dominance get too much to your head. You have to mellow out a bit for it to work. I know that old coot Air is a sucker for discipline, but even he's struggled to keep himself under control lately."

 “Look Alpha, I’m really sorry for being so… harsh,” I said guiltily, my eyes lowering to the ground. “Like you said, sometimes the act gets too much to my mind, and… well… it’s hard to snap out of it. If Papa’s indeed coming back, we’re all in danger, and you have to realize that.”

“The old fuck and his groupie wouldn’t necessarily want to ruin us right away. He’d wait all the time in the world before trying to find us again. Emeritus is like that. He likes to spread his time out to trick people. We’ve already let him and Mother Superior know that we’re done with their interference with our music. He probably never wants to see us again.”

“But you know how obsessed he is with me,” I clarified. “I think it goes far past the whole Prime Mover thing. He saw something in me that awakened something inside of him, something primal… and I’ll never know what it is.”

“All people succumb to their carnal lust, Rosalina. With Papa, it’s more intense. The Ghoul has much more of a grasp on human life than any of us here. He knows how to seduce, how to bend the mind to think of nothing but him. He’s the all-powerful person in our ministry. How did you think Mother Superior elected him?”

“Obviously something besides his voice, I guess.”

“It was his stamina, his passion to fulfill the requirements of the project. Our first Papa was too old and frail to even act out upon it. But then again, he may have just been a precursor. Now look where we've all ended up. In the absence of a better God, we've fallen to serve the darkest of souls."

We spoke no more, an awkward silence preventing us from speaking about things other than our sessions, just like before.


	40. Disintegration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosalie holds a meeting for the Ghouls to get to the bottom of recent turmoil.

The next afternoon, I realized that if interrogating the hell out of the Ghouls wouldn't help me with getting answers, then perhaps speaking to them as a whole was the only reasonable option left.

"Ghouls." My voice echoed almost menacingly throughout the atrium, like how Papa would address the worshippers at the beginning of each ritual. "I've summoned you all here tonight to talk about a letter I received with my fan mail the other night." Verona handed me the letter. I then read its contents out loud, eyeing over my captive audience occasionally. "Now, I would like to know just how exactly Papa and Alessa happened to have found us. Does anyone have anything to contribute?"

"Well, for one, they're probably paying attention to advertising," Water said bluntly, "and you never know if Martin’s feeding them info behind our backs.”

"Martin is our friend, we can trust him! He made a vow to me in writing, as a matter of fact. He is loyal to us. Papa was bound to know  _something_  before Rock Uncovered just had to write that article, though. Doesn't Papa have some sort of spiritual connection with me since I'm destined to be the Prime Mover? Huh?"

"I can explain that," Air volunteered.

"Oh good, you're the one I thought would know. Go ahead, Air."

"Before Papa saw you at the concert, he established the Antichrist prophecy.” Memories of the ritualistic nightmare came back, when I lay on the lacquer table while Papa spilled his seed inside of me, hoping to conceive the Antichrist that very night. "Basically, as you may know, you were chosen by him to carry this Church's Antichrist, all because you filled his quota. He saw you as the perfect fit because of your innocence and naivety, how it would be easy to corrupt you. And now, because of his infatuation for you, he has used his powers to link you to him.”

"He basically told us Ghouls that we'd have to fuck you until you got pregnant," Earth continued. "It's a bullshit plan, if you ask me, but that's what Emeritus wanted. And from the looks of it, Omega's the father?"

"I thought that's what we decided," I said, my voice wavering in confusion.

"But what if I'm the father?" Alpha asked his fellow Ghouls loudly. "Or what if Air's the father? Who knows? Papa may even be the father! Nobody fucking knows at this point!"

"Why does it even matter, though? Do any of you really want some mansion in Sweden and a shit ton of cash all because one of you impregnated me? I thought you guys were in this for the music, not for fame!"

Omega's eyes widened, startled that I echoed the words he told me so long ago during our brief argument. He faintly nodded his head, acknowledging that after months of trying to figure out the Church of Ghost's purpose, I somehow started to understand.

"Mother Superior will banish us if she doesn't know who the father is!" Water exclaimed. "How do you even know it's Omega's child? Just because you two are in a relationship doesn't mean he's the father! Any one of us could possibly be the kid's real father."

“Rosalie, come on,” Verona whispered. “We can go talk about this in your room, if you want.”

Nodding, I followed Verona to my dressing room as the Ghouls began to quarrel with each other. Once I sat down, I buried my head into my Sister's bosom, trying so hard not to cry. I thought I was doing what was right! Did Papa still have a hold on my mind, making me say and do these things? The cycle was winding back to the start, where if Papa really did return, I'd have to play alongside his morbid fantasies to survive.

"Sister, I don't know what to do anymore..." I wept. "I thought the Ghouls.... loved me, respected me! Now it's just a fight to see who loves me the most to be my child's father. And now, with Papa potentially coming back, it's a never-ending nightmare!"

"Rose, please... please don't cry," Verona said sadly, running her hand through my hair. "The Ghouls are just frustrated with what's going to happen now that Papa's possibly out for good. They think Omega's gonna be a good dad. I think a few of them are jealous. But come on, none of them really got to know you as a person until now, right?"

Earth ran into the room, readjusting his askew hood. "Sorry about my brothers, Rosalina," he said, glancing back at the Ghouls he left behind. "They're just very frustrated right now as the time comes close, Omega especially. He's really worried about Papa potentially coming back and taking your daughter for himself.”

I took a deep breath. "I've already decided Omega is my child's father, even if he isn't biologically. I love him more than any of you, no offense. The relationship I have with him is very, very strong, built from love and empathy, and not just pleasure. I seriously hope you'll understand."

"At least I do," Earth replied, "because Omega was my brother in the past."

My heart dropped to my stomach. "He... he was?"

"Yes. In our lives before we joined the Church, we were inseparable. In Sweden, we always played in the woods together, always went around town causing mischief. But now, I’m not even allowed to acknowledge him anymore. We have to keep separate identities, and keep our pasts to ourselves. It’s… very hard to live without him. As a family member, I mean.”

“So, you Ghouls have it just as worse.”

“Unfortunately, yes. Four years ago, when we sold our souls and formed the band, we had to discard everything regarding our pasts. It’s all because of what the elders, and especially Papa wanted. Perhaps, we sold our souls in more ways than one. But remember, we still have our plans to assassinate Papa.”

"I'm just worried about him coming back.” I flipped on my mirror lights and gazed at my reflection. “He's going to fuck up the band, change it all so we follow his ordeals again."

"He's saying he's changed himself, reformed even," Verona added. "He's probably worse."

“Fuck, we have to do something…” Earth mumbled as he began pacing around the room. “We have to… uh… maybe increase security, possibly cancel the show—“

“No, Earth Ghoul,” I said, wiping away my tears. “The show must go on. I have to stop being so fearful of the monster and start working against him, like I was going to. I have to rub my new-found fame in his face, tell him my daughter isn’t going into his vile hands. We… we have to do something.”

“Are you sure though, Rosalina? We can always cancel.”

“No, we aren’t cancelling. We’re going to give the fans what they want, pretend like there’s nothing wrong. But it’s just when we see the monster… I don’t know how we’re going to fight him off.”

Much to my relief, Omega arrived, but fear widened his eyes.

"Omega, what's wrong?" Verona asked.

"It's Papa," Omega replied nervously, his hands shaking. "He's back, and he's waiting in the atrium with Sister Alessa."

"Right now?" My voice got caught in my throat.

"Yes, right now."

_The monster found us._

“We’ll go barricade the room before he gets here,” Verona said quietly, gesturing for Earth to follow her out the door.

“I can’t go out there, Omega!” I sobbed, lowering my face into my hands. “I can’t… he’s going to see me and how pregnant I am, and his mind is going to go straight to that… He’s going to remember everything!”

“Rosalie, listen to me,” Omega said calmly. “You have been our leader for the past few months, and you cannot just quit on us now. You made me forget about the horrors of my curse because of your determination and your strength. You made me believe that fame... isn't that much of a bad thing without the old man around. To be frank, if you hadn’t entered our lives, our Church… our band… would’ve been nothing now.”

“So, what are you trying to say?” 

“I’m saying you’re going to get out there and confront Papa, and tell him who the real boss around here is. We don’t want him back, and you’ve got to tell him that. He won't listen to us Ghouls, but perhaps he'll listen to his fiancée."

"But Omega, he knows about our relationship! What do I need to tell him?"

"This new stance you have will be the key to destroy him and ultimately win you back your place in the band. He's obsessed with you, and I think he'll fall for it easily. He can see through a person when they're lying, but you? You could at least try to trick him back. You know, this is the way you've won over my heart. With your charms and your genuine personality... it'll infuriate Papa so much."

"You really think so?"

"Of course, Rosalie.” Omega ran his hand through my hair before resting it on my belly. "After all, we've made someone who will be rather important to our lives. Our love is something we cannot waste."

My smile became warmer, and he moved in closer to kiss me, his lips warm. See, this is the life I wanted to have. No possibility of demonic possession, a man who actually gave a fuck about me, a child...

"Rosalina?" an Italian-accented voice asked from behind the door. "Are you in there?"

"It's him!" I squeaked, falling from Omega's lips.

"Shh, don't worry," Omega whispered. “Remember what I told you. Keep your stance. Be brave, Rosalie. You have been for a very long time."


	41. Tear You Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papa returns, and this time, he's out for flesh and blood.

Verona slowly opened the door, her eyes flashed over with fear. She looked at Omega and I nervously as Earth ushered Papa and Alessa into the dressing room, gesturing toward where I sat by my mirror. I pretended not to notice them, instead freshening up my black eye shadow and purple lips. But it was hard to avoid them; I saw their reflections right through the glass, standing just a few feet behind me. Papa didn't look much different, wearing his usual dark sunglasses and leather gloves. He wore a new blue silk shirt and a black fedora, further edging up his classy style. Alessa's scarlet tresses were styled in a pixie-like bob, cut just below her ears. She rolled her brown eyes as I continued to ignore them, until Papa cleared his throat.

"Rosalina!" Papa snuck up behind me and gave me one of his trademark kisses, passionate yet cold with hatred. "Oh, how I've missed you so, so much! I do apologize for forcing you and the Ghouls to relocate to this city for the past few months... there was much I needed to negotiate with the people back in Vegas, and I had some other.... side-projects as well." He turned to Alessa, the both of them exchanging all-knowing smirks. 

"Well, I'm happy to see you here!" I said awkwardly, shutting off my mirror lights. "You've found our new chapel! Do you like it?"

"It is not as ornate as the mansion in Vegas, but it will do us well, for the time being. Rosalina, let me tell you how desperate I was to return to you. It was like the world had stopped and frozen, like me and Sister Alessa were the only two people in it. I was that lonely – confused and nearly dying of a broken heart, but—"

“Oh, look at her!” Alessa screeched as I rose from my seat and straightened out my dress. “She looks like she’s about to pop!”

“Damn!” Papa's eyes narrowed down to my belly, and he made an eerie sound of satisfaction under his breath. “I almost forgot of the powerful gift our good friend Mammon shall soon receive! You are quite big with child, Rosalina. Is he at all hurting you?"

"Uh, not too bad." I chuckled uncomfortably. Did he really have the nerve to call my child a boy right away? "Thankfully I had some things to do to suppress the pain, but—“

Papa noticed Omega standing next to me and his posture stiffened. "Aether Ghoul... surprisingly, I am pleased to see you again, but... could you perhaps join your brothers in the atrium? We will be there momentarily."

Omega couldn't refuse. He nodded and squeezed my hand, following Alessa out of the room. I was alone with the monster.

_Once again._

Papa walked back to my chair, held my face in his hands, and gave me another kiss, a collision of tongue and bottled-up lust so strong that I temporally lost my breath. He was still obsessed with me, seeing me as nothing but a trophy.

And the game resumed where it left off.

"Rosalina," Papa whispered, his breath hot on my jaw, "you're finally mine again. My one true love."

 _I'm in control now,_  I reminded myself.  _This is the only way to defeat Papa._

"Oh, how I've missed you, Papa," I murmured, running my fingertips along his smooth, scratchy cheek. "I've been alone with these Ghouls for several months, and they've all been so horny, craving for what I do best. I’m a bit… immobilized, so to speak.”

"Not to worry at all, my love." Papa discarded his gloves and gently brought me closer to him. Then, he snuck a hand up my dress and began to run his hand over my belly, making sure the rough flesh of his hand was against my own. "You're working on something far more important than your courtesan duties. I completely understand."

 _Get_ _off of me. She is not yours._

My daughter then kicked against Papa's palm. "Damn, he kicked!"

"Yup... they’re a kicker!"  _No,_ _my little Ghuleh_ _, he is not your father. He is not someone you can trust._ "A rather aggressive one, too. Keeps me up all morning."

"But look at you, all aglow with motherhood. It makes you look divine."

"Well, I certainly don't feel like it. I'm all... fat and unflattering. It's disgusting."

Papa's bare hand moved from my belly up to a swollen breast, but before he could even start trying to tease me, I pushed him away.

"Papa, don't even think about it, you horny bastard." I feigned a smirk to try and convince him that it wasn't necessarily fight-or-flight that made me push him away. "I'm going to check on the Ghouls to see if our ritual is set up for tonight. Care to come with me, my fiancé?"

Papa narrowed his sunglasses so I could look into his eyes. "Oh, you remembered the wedding! I promise, my little darling, it will happen very, very soon. Unfortunately, I will have to get your gown modified.”

"Don't worry about it, Papa. I'm sure I'll look stunning."

“And I assure that you will still be the beautiful  _principessa_  I envisioned since the day I proposed to you.”

Arm in arm, Papa and I left my dressing room and returned to the atrium, where the Ghouls were scattered around doing their usual chores. Earth and Alpha were lighting the incense, while Water was draping a red velvet cloth over the altar bed. Air was rehearsing a new, somber melody on the old church organ, while Verona was speaking to Alessa near the entrance of the chapel, trying so hard to tolerate Alessa's remarks.

But where was Omega?

"Hey, has anyone seen Omega?" I shouted over Air's near deafening organ music.

"Why does he always concern you so much?" Papa asked me suspiciously. He must’ve forgotten the altercation back at the Venetian, thank Mammon. 

"Well, he  _is_  another one of the Ghouls. All of the Nameless Ghouls have a special place in my heart. I've been watching over them for the past few months, and I've made sure they've been well-behaved, so to speak."

Alessa's gaze caught Papa's. She smirked slyly and gestured for him to come to her. Papa let go of my hand, and once he approached my fellow Sister, she immediately began to whisper in his ear, pointing over to me and then the altar bed. Papa's posture stiffened as his memories returned to him, his cold stage presence taking over him once again. He stormed up to the altar and banged his fist against the lectern, startling the Ghouls from attending to their tasks and into undivided attention.

"Ghouls, you must have forgotten that the most crucial time for us has come,” Papa declared. “Rosalina is holding our destined Antichrist inside of her at this moment. It is such a shame that it will not be my child, but alas, it will be a blessed offering to our Infernal Majesty.” He beckoned for me to come to the altar. “Now, I believe I have asked you this before, Rosalina, but I did not receive a straight forward answer from you. Which of my Ghouls knocked you up, so to speak?”

“I… I have no idea, Papa,” I lied. "I don't think you realize that there are five Ghouls and only one of me. There's no way—“

“One of these Ghouls has to be the child’s father!” Papa exclaimed in frustration. Here we go again. “Do I have to question each one of them until one reveals the truth? Tell me, is there some sort of secret fling going on between you and one of my Ghouls? I have not seen you in months, so  _something_  must have formed! Do not keep secrets from me, Rosalina!"

“No! The only person I love in this Church is you!” I winced as the baby gave another sharp kick. “I've waited so long for you to come back. Please, Papa, I didn’t do anything with the Ghouls!"

“I did it, Papa!” Omega suddenly exclaimed. He rushed down the aisle, untying a thick string of rope from his wrists. So Alessa tried to do something to him! “ _I_  was the Ghoul that got Rosalina pregnant. We are, uh… sort of friends with benefits, and—“

“No, Omega!” I screamed. “Stop, please!”

“So, you did love someone other than me,” Papa said to me in disgust, sharply turning my head by my chin. “You call Omega your lover? Do you know of the times when he disrupted the Church’s practices?” My tears grew hotter, and more of humiliation. “Sometimes, you act just as foolish as you did in the beginning, Rosalina. I have given you everything! This is how you repay me, by starting an affair with one of my Ghouls?”

“I didn’t mean it, Papa!” I sobbed. “I was just waiting for you to come back! I love you! Please, forgive me! Omega is only my friend, nothing more, and I didn’t know I was going to get pregnant!”

“I cannot take your petty excuses anymore, Rosalina. The Church has been in a desolate state ever since you fools tried to operate without me, and even more so when you took the reins. We must protect ourselves and continue to do Mammon’s bidding. Alpha, Air Ghoul, send Omega to the dungeons at once. He shall remain there until  _my_  child is born.”

Alpha and Air decided to torture me further by allying with Papa again and beating up Omega, punching blows to his head so hard that his mask became dented. Alpha knocked Omega to the ground, and I could hear his strong fist whittle away at his stomach, the smacks making my ears sting. Once Omega was weak enough to not even move, the two Ghouls dragged him out of the chapel and to the catacombs underneath. I couldn't even scream or move in Omega's defense, my mouth tightly covered and my body held back against Papa.

“As for you,” Papa hissed in my ear hotly, “I’ll make sure to spend more time with you now that we’ve been reconciled. And to warn you now, you are still mine. I have fought tooth and nail to claim you, and I will not let you start affairs with _any_ of my boys, especially Omega.” He let me out of his grip and headed back upstairs in silence.

“I guess you aren’t his favorite anymore,” Alessa snickered.

“Oh shut up, you bitch,” I said lowly, “he’s still obsessed with me. He only sees you as someone to fuck every once in a while.”

Alessa scoffed, insulted that I told her the truth. “Well, at least I don’t try to leave his side right before he gets married to the one he really loves! Damn, that whole thing leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Come on, Verona, we need to have a little chat before the ritual.”

Verona gave me a sympathetic look before reluctantly leaving the atrium with Alessa. I stood frozen in my place, lowering my head to hide the tears of shame. Just when everything was going so well, it all went to shit again, because of the monster and his obsession. 

And now, I was weak again, too much to even try defending myself at this point. Power and fame were all but concepts I once held, but as soon as Papa returned, they were snatched out of my grasp, leaving me powerless again.

“Rosalina, I’m really sorry about Omega,” Earth said to me quietly, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“He’s gone,” I answered, my throat strained. “Omega is as good as dead now. He was the only one left that I loved, and Papa just took him away! He’s taking everyone and everything away… my lover, my dream, and most importantly, he’s going to take away my daughter. Everyone's lives are in danger here. We have to do something soon!"

“I still have the poison,” Water added as he joined us. “But it’s going to take time to distract Papa and poison him. Trust me, we all want him dead as much as you and Omega do.”

"I know, but how? I've tried everything with Papa. Acting like I was on his side, playing along with his lust. Literally nothing works! He wins every time! Just how are we going to defeat him?"

“I assure you, we will think of something,” Earth told me reassuringly. “We cannot let Papa’s tyranny take over us much longer. It may take a while to reach an exact decision, but we promise you that we will have him gone in time, Rosalina.”


	42. The Ghost That's Haunting You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omega reveals his dark secret to Rosalie.

Thankfully, Papa wouldn't be sleeping with me tonight, off to celebrate under the moonlight with Verona and Alessa. I meant everything and nothing to him. He broke me, manipulated me, and fucked me up, and he was proud of my corruption. It was just what he desired. I played his game, but my attempts were only child's play to him. Now, the only way I could save myself, Omega, Verona, the Ghouls, and my child was if I just surrendered myself to Papa and gave him everything he wanted. But I wouldn't let that happen. That would only show that I'm weak.

I stayed awake until I was certain that Papa was outside, resuming the Church's normal practices as if I've done absolutely nothing. I needed to sneak into the dungeons - yes, this new church had dungeons just like in Vegas - to speak with Omega, to find out what I should do in his absence. He couldn't be freed so easily, especially that Papa now knew that I was carrying his child. Hell, Omega might even be killed without me knowing! The very thought broke my heart, giving me no hope that I desperately craved.

"Don't worry, my little Ghuleh," I told her reassuringly, running a hand over my belly. "Mommy's going to fix all our problems. We'll get Daddy out soon."

I grabbed the key to the dungeons off of my dresser, stepped out of my bedroom, and wandered off to the dungeons. They weren't much different than the ones in Vegas. However, they were smaller and more cramped, almost caving you in, but at least the cells were wider. I tiptoed past the virgins' cells so I wouldn't disturb them with my presence. 

“Rosalie, is that you?” Omega called from the very end of the dungeons.

"Omega!" I exclaimed, quickening my pace to reach my lover's cell. Of course, I couldn't move much without feeling like a waddling duck. When I stopped in front of his cell, I gasped so loudly that it echoed across the dungeons.

The man, or rather creature, that sat before me in the cell absolutely terrified me. He looked like a cross between the deformed villain of a tragic horror tale and a gargoyle statue that rusted away with age. The creature only had a few wisps of blonde hair sprouting from his head, and short, curved horns jutting out of his skull. His skin was gray and festering, and his eyes, those beautiful blue eyes I thought were once so striking, were more of a lifeless corpse's hazy eyes, now dull and lifeless.

My lover was a reanimated corpse, but since he had sold his soul to Mammon, everything seemed to click. I recalled the story of Faust, factoring in Omega's near perfect musical ability. It all made sense now, why the Nameless Ghouls wore masks and never kept their real names. They sold their souls to Satan to play their music flawlessly, and with this deal, they went anonymous, totally unknown to the world.

“So, now you see the monster I’ve become.” Omega's face fell at my horrified expression. “All of us look like this, thanks to Mammon. Our task behind the masks was to dedicate our whole lives to him, to ensure the fates of mankind succumbed to his rule. We would be able to live forever if we agreed. I should’ve thought it through more… my brother and I were young and foolish when we accepted, and now, look at us. I should be dead now.”

“I...” I was too stunned for words. “I’ve never seen such a beautiful monster in my whole life.”

Omega turned his head away from me. “Tell that to the man whose soul should be burning in Hell right about now.”

“Omega, do you think I care what you look like? Do you think I care for the mistakes you’ve made in the past? You’ve showed me what love is, Omega, and that was always my one desire. You’ve helped me survive through Papa’s hell, you…” I brought his hands through the cell’s bar and placed them on my belly. “I’m carrying our child right now! We made him or her together. I love you, Omega, and I honestly don’t care if you’ve sold your soul for something that really mattered to you. Out all of the people I’ve met in this Church, you are the one worthy to know who I really am.”

“You… you mean that, Rosalie?” Omega asked, sniffling as tears flooded his eyes. Eerily, his tears were black, staining his cheeks as if he cried out ink.

“Of course I do! After all, I fell in love with the man behind the mask. I didn’t even know what you looked like, and even then it wouldn’t make a difference!”

“Rosalie…” I looked into Omega's eyes. “You don’t know how much your words mean to me. Ever since I’ve become this monster they call a Nameless Ghoul, I’ve regret my decision. I had a life that I wished to continue, but fame and talent went through my head. Look how much it's destroyed me. They always said ‘if you have Ghost, you have everything’, but I’ve realized that was a total lie. I figured I had nothing. The Papas always hated me for whatever reason, because I actually reach out to new worshippers so they’re comfortable with reveling in their desire. They didn’t like that, but I didn’t care. They wanted me dead for trying to be nice! I couldn’t leave my brother, I really couldn’t, and I was just considering hanging myself so it would all finally end… until you arrived. Once Papa foretold that you would be the mother of the Antichrist at celebration that night, I knew I had to save you. I had a purpose to live – to protect the innocent woman vowed to be so corrupted.”

“Omega…” Tears sent my dark makeup down my face in streams. I knew of Omega’s kindness before, but never like this. I knew he was trying to protect me, keep me away from Papa’s odd nature, but I had saved him from suicide? “I love you. I love you so, so much.”

I unlocked the door to the cell and carefully crouched my way inside. Omega brought me into his arms and kissed me as if we had been separated for years. He took off his torn cassock and wrapped it around my torso, warming me up from the chill of the underground. I needed Omega, just as he needed me. We needed to prove to Papa that our love would overcome his wrath, his supreme reign. Love was the key to defeat Papa, not control. Love was something that Papa never quite knew.

And he never will.


	43. Darker Shade of Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Special Ghoul returns, and Rosalie is ushered to her fate.

A loud, rhythmic sound reverberated across the dungeons' corridor, startling me from my slumber. I rubbed my eyes and glanced up at a familiar dark phantom crouched down at the cell's level, staring at me through black mesh-covered eyes. For a moment, I thought I saw him move his head slightly toward Omega's direction, as if glaring at him in jealousy, pondering as he slid his knuckles against the metal bars.

"S-Special Ghoul?" I hadn't seen my confidant since we arrived in Los Angeles. I thought maybe he stayed behind in Vegas to tend to duties there, but oddly enough, I had received no word of his wherabouts since January. "I didn't know you were here."

"I figured you'd be down here with Omega." Special's chipper tone of voice had disappeared. Usually, he had some kind of cheeky remark to counteract with what I said, but any trace of the oftentimes humorous Ghoul were gone. "I need your help before Papa finds out I'm down here."

"Is there anything I can even do anymore?" Carefully, I rose to my feet. "I could try to help you, though. I know I can't do much now that Papa's back, but that's not going to stop me."

Special sighed in anguish. "Papa's going to execute me next week."

"W-what?!" I covered my mouth to stifle the loud gasp that came out of my mouth. "He... I didn't know he could kill—"

Special looked behind his shoulder, and then back over at Omega. Thankfully, my Ghoul was still sound asleep, snoring. Our conversation hadn't been interrupted.

"I was told I revealed too many of the Project's secrets. How, I'm not sure. I'm usually cautious with my words. Only you can help me escape from this, Rosalina. I mean... after all I've done for you, you can still trust me, right?"

"I mean, you did help me try to escape," I said, shrugging my shoulders. "And even if I decided to stay after all, at least you've proven yourself worthy of my trust."

"I mean, I'm just the clergy's spokesman. I'm harmless."

Something didn't seem right with Special. The way he stared at Omega like a stalking cat, hidden in the darkness, randomly appearing out of nowhere. At least he knocked before entering my room unlike the others. His words even sounded feigned and not very genuine, more clipped as if he was just beginning to get a grasp of English.

"What do we need to do?" I then asked.

"We need to go back upstairs to the worshippers' cells and I'll be able to show you what I've got planned." Special took a spare key from out of his cassock and unlocked the cell door. How the hell did he even have one? "We have to hurry, though. If Papa catches either of us in the wrong place, he's not going to be happy."

"But I don't want to leave Omega here by himself..." I clasped my hand over my Ghoul's. "This might be the last time I get to see him before Papa keeps me away from the dungeons."

"I'm really sorry," Special said hurriedly, opening the door for me, "but we really don't have time. I know how much you love him, but you know how Papa is. Not very merciless."

"I'll be back." I kissed Omega's cheek, still stone cold. "I won't let Papa hold me back from you."

I then inched my way out of the cell and followed Special out of the dungeons and back upstairs. There was an awkward silence between us, much like when we first met in Vegas, both unaware of each others' intentions. Although Special went from untrustworthy spokesman to my personal confidant, I wasn't sure of what secrets he still hid from me, for his sake. Judging by his haggard, changed expression and tired-sounding voice, an inkling of suspicion led me to believe that I was now in for the worst.

Contrary to what he said, Special ushered me not into a worshipper's cell but into a dusty storage room stocked with random antiques and clothing most likely from the previous church that once did business here. He closed the door and leaned his back against it, as if he thought I'd try to escape from him.

"Special, this isn't like you," I said warily, backing away. "Why are you being so weird?"

Slowly, Special lifted up his hood and removed his mask, revealing a man with mismatched eyes and a face of darkness obscured the black balaclava. The cloth slowly became unraveled, going round and round until a bald head made its presence, confirming my initial fears.

Papa had been masquerading as Special Ghoul this whole time. It should've surprised me, but now being aware of Papa's games, nothing he did fazed me anymore. So that meant I had indeed interviewed him. Not a Nameless Ghoul, but the actual Papa. The invitation to the after-party was his idea. The blunt attitude was to conceal his womanizing personality...

And he was the one who burnt my house down to a crisp.

"You once said that I'm a very fine actor." Papa chuckled coldly, watching as my face fell in defeat. "And indeed, I am. We all use manipulation to fuck up our minds. But unfortunately for you, your attempts were... shoddy. Such woeful ignorance on your part, Rosalina. To be honest, I thought you had yourself in check."

"I had to do anything to keep my sanity," I said flatly, emotionless. There wasn't any use to cry.

"And what happened to _that_ , hmm? But you've learned your lesson."

A shiver shot through my spine. 

Papa took a step closer. "Face it, Rosalina. I did everything in my power to get you to stay, and trust me when I say everything..." He briefly glanced down at my belly before staring back into my eyes. "Your pretty little breakdown was your best performance yet. Now I cannot wait any longer for you to marry the Church of Ghost, our own Zombie Queen."

"What kind of a sick bastard are you?" A sob burned in my throat as the memories flashed through my mind. Air kidnapping me, the nightmare, the fire. All Papa's doing. "Why do you do these things to people? They come here for a change, not to be brainwashed!"

"Because I couldn't take my Ghouls' ignorance any longer. We were given a task by Sister Imperator, Rosalina. We had to use whatever means to please our unholy master, and my predecessor's dogma was... weak. I hold the power now. It is time that I excercise my rights."

Tears stinging my eyes, I hung my head. I couldn't bear to look at this monster after every confession, every confirmation that he had been closely watching my every single move.

"It's a shame I had to get your wedding gown modified on such short notice." I heard Papa's voice behind me, but I didn't dare glance. "You would've made the most beautiful, unholy bride."

"I don't give a shit. Just..." I sighed painfully. "Let's just get this over with."

Papa escorted me back to my dressing room. My Sisters were waiting there, to prepare me for my doomed fate. Verona didn't dare say anything, afraid to utter a single word, while Alessa made her jealousy obvious, mumbling to herself how better of a wife she'd be to Papa. Her story still rang clearly in my head. The poor girl turned to the band to save herself from death, and found her own happiness, even if it was twisted. She deserved to be married to Papa much more than I did. Her devotion for him was undying, faithful, and true, and at least he didn't scorn her.

My wedding dress was a dark, bloody shade of red. As the old saying went, if you're "married in red, you're better off dead," which worked perfectly with the message Papa tried to convey. As soon as Verona was able to help me squeeze into the dress, I thought it was so tight around my middle that perhaps Papa wanted to suffocate me to death right then and there.

At least the dress was pretty to look at. The dress was sleeveless, bringing attention to my bare shoulders and swollen decolletage. Black and silver embroidery adorned the bodice, and the billowing, ruffled skirt had each layer coated with black tulle and tiny pearls. My veil was an itchy, black fabric attached to a silver crown, the material flowing down my back. More mourner than bride, but this wedding was more or less my own funeral.

"Would you stop crying already?" Alessa said in her squawky voice, nearly stabbing me in the eye with her eye pencil. "It's ruining your makeup."

"Alessa, don't start." Verona grabbed a tissue and dabbed at my tears, wiping up a black tear streak trailing underneath my eye. "You want to look good on your wedding day, don't you?"

This was not how I envisioned my wedding day, looking like death and married to someone who wanted me dead. I could only think of how Omega would wake up in the dungeons, realizing I was married to the monster. The thoughts were too agonizing to bear. Either way, I knew that tonight, my heart was officially broken.

"Whatever you do, Rosalina, you must be good to Papa," Verona warned me as she painted my lips with a glossy red shade. "Follow everything he tells you to do. Please him so he won't hurt us... or the Ghouls... or even you."

“And forget about Omega!” Alessa added cheerily.

Verona glared at her fellow Sister. "I was never going to say that."

Alessa scoffed. “Remember, Rosalina. If you have Ghost, you have everything. You’re  _really_ Papa's property now. There is no going back.”

The only thing I could do was share a sad, exchanged glance with Verona.

My Sister nodded as she clasped the extravagant, ruby Grucifix necklace Papa gave to me at the Venetian around my neck, completing my look. 

“Don’t worry. This storm will pass over soon enough.”


	44. Unholy Matrimony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosalie and Papa are wed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wedding vows found here: http://www.angelfire.com/empire/serpentis666/Satanic_Wedding.html

I followed my Sisters into the atrium, lit only by flickering candlelight. The worshippers bent down to their knees and lowered their heads in respect, letting me pass by them. I was initially oblivious as to why they freaked out over me when I was nothing but the Ghouls' courtesan, but now I knew why. Whatever Papa liked, they liked, the usual brainwashed worshippers they were. I wonder what they would think of me if it wasn't for Papa's meddling. Would they show sympathy for me and the hellish conditions I lived through, or would I be seen as yet another whore, a clingy groupie?

Papa stood at the altar, while Alpha, Water, and Earth stood close by, their heads lowered. Air sat at his organ up on the dais, wildly playing a dark tune that sounded more like a funeral dirge than a wedding march. Thankfully, Papa was in full costume and makeup and held his scepter, as if we were being wed back in Vegas at one of those goofy wedding chapels with themed weddings. Only this time, instead of the dramatically costumed minister performing the ceremony, he was the one the ceremony was being held for.

An actual priest stood at the altar as well, much to my surprise. I pitied the poor man, who looked absolutely terrified to be in a church that worshipped a close relative of the devil. He was shaking, scared out of his mind. I would commend him later for his utmost bravery, his courage to officiate this unholy matrimony.

“Be sure to read the vows  _correctly_ ,” Papa told the priest harshly, “or else  _you_  will become our sacrifice tonight.” He then turned to me and examined my wedding dress, particularly how tight it was over my belly. “Rosalina, you look so stunning in your gown! Isn’t it rather amusing that our son is attending the ceremony?”

I kept my darkly painted lips shut. None of this mattered much to me anymore. A small inch of my heart beat steadily as I thought of my freedom, the faithful moment when I would prevail against the monster, and raise my daughter as my own, along with Omega. But would that time even arrive?

“In the Name of Satan," the priest began, cringing in horror at the words he was forced to read, "Ruler of the Earth, True God, Almighty and Ineffable, Who hast created man to reflect in Thine own image and likeness, we invite the Forces of Hell to bestow their infernal power upon us. Come forth to greet us and confer dark blessings upon this couple who desire to become as one in the eyes of Satan and his brother, Mammon.”

I glanced over at Papa. He smirked at me victoriously, knowing he was finally getting his way now that everyone and everything that held importance to me was lost or dead.

The priest took the athame we rarely used and clumsily waved it around in the air.

“Almighty Mammon, look with favor upon your disciples. Both have come here of their own free will. They come before you to ask your blessings as they set forth on this very day as husband and wife. We ask that you bless this union with lust and the pleasures of life, that their mutual affection and desire for one another continues strong and enduring.”

Wrong, wrong, wrong. I did  _not_  come here on my own free will. I did not want Satan to ‘bless’ my marriage to this monster. 

The priest turned his head in my direction, looking at me with wide, sympathetic eyes. I wanted so desperately for him to stop the wedding and take me away. Hell, even bring Omega along with us. Anywhere was safer than here.

“Do you, Rosalina, desire of your own free will to take Papa Emeritus as your lawfully wedded husband to love, honor, and respect; to become as one in the eyes of Satan and before the powers of Hell?”

I didn’t even have a choice to decline. I wondered what would happen if I said no. I didn’t even want to imagine.

“I do.”

“And do you, Papa Emeritus, desire of your own free will to take Rosalina as your lawfully wedded wife to love, honor, and respect; to become as one in the eyes of Satan and before the powers of Hell?”

“Of course I do,” Papa replied, sliding his wedding ring on my finger. This time, it was encrusted with garnets rather than rubies, to match his chasuble.

As I slid a matching silver band on Papa’s gloved finger, the female worshippers below us sighed in agony, wishing they were me. Did they seriously wish to be abused, tortured, and fucked up by this monster? Why did they yearn for a life where darkness took over their minds, changing them into the exact opposite of who they once were?

“In the Name of Satan, Mammon, and before all of the Demons of Hell, and the state of California, I pronounce you Husband and Wife.” A nervous quiver usurped tbe priest’s voice. “May your union be powerful, strong, and abundant with pleasure! Hell Satan!”

Papa carefully brought me into his arms and kissed me on the lips for what felt like hours. His kiss was very similar to the one he first gave me in my Vegas bedroom - passionate, but cold, feigned. He could give a shit less about romance, only the fact that I was now his possession.

“Now, go forth as one, and keep each other strong in Mammon as you now walk together on the Left Hand Path.” The priest quickly closed his book and straightened out his own cassock. “May Mammon grant you many blessings along the way.  _Ave Satanas_!”

Papa gestured for me to repeat with him, “ _Ave Satanas_!” but I was too distracted by the priest being escorted away by the Ghouls to his freedom outside. At this rate, the people who meant nothing to the Church of Ghost were free to escape without any harm done to them, but me? I’m Papa’s cherished prize, or, as the worshippers chanted, “Mater Emerita!”

“Satan has brought us together as one,” Papa informed the crowd, “just like the song of the Monstrance Clock.” He started to sing the song’s final verse. “Come together, together as one… for Lucifer’s son. And now, look at her!” He gently pushed me closer to the worshippers. “She is carrying his son right now! Such filth in her womb, but the child shall be cherished as long as we stand by him. There is a song of ours that reminds me of what Rosalina really means to us. Can anyone guess it?”

“Elizabeth!” someone in the crowd suggested.

“Ghuleh!” another shouted.

“No, no,” Papa said. “Those are very good guesses, but I’m afraid those songs do not mean as much as the song of… the Prime Mover! Hit it, boys!”

Reluctantly, the Ghouls began to play, the harmony Omega brought to the music absent.

 _Clad in cloak_  
_A secretive nun_  
_Bearing the old ones' bastard son_  
_Varucose phallos_  
_Obsessed and poised her_  
_Cast a veil of dusk upon the cloister_  
_Prime mover_  
_Maternal slave_  
_With child of her grave_


	45. When Angels Deserve to Die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Rosalie and Papa are married, how much further will Papa go in making Rosalie’s life a living hell? 
> 
> This chapter contains a scene of non-consented sex. Please read at your own discretion.

My mind remained numb for the entirety of the outdoor reception. I didn't bother to speak, not even when Papa's lecherous old friends from Italy confronted me, advising that I watch out for Papa's drunken nature. They held their glasses of red wine in their wrinkled hands covered with liver spots, laughing heartily as they clinked their glasses in revelry.

"He's so lucky to marry a beautiful belladonna like you," one of the men said to me, his accent thick and slurred. He reminded me of an older Berkeley, but with a black, greasy combover and red veins practically popping in his dark eyes.

"He’s going to be a ladies' man just like his Papa," another one of the men, a near clone of Papa minus the mismatched eyes and thin mustache quipped, gesturing toward my stomach. "I didn't even know Giuseppe still had it in him!"

"Of course I do, boys," Papa said, drunkenly stumbling to his friends. Alessa followed behind him, staying a few feet away so she didn't draw attraction. "You've heard the record, right? There's a whole fucking song devoted to how much I can keep it up."

I escaped from Papa and his friends, drifting over to the tent the Ghouls sat underneath with their instruments. They were being forced to play Italian tarantellas they didn't even know, scrambling to read the sheet music and stay in tune. I couldn't say or do anything except to shake my head sympathetically whenever they looked up at me, feeling awful for their embarrassment. In the period of time when I was their lead singer, I grew rather close with the Ghouls, knowing them more as people than phantoms now. When Omega demanded that they returned to their moral code, they deeply apologized for their actions under Papa's influence. Ghouls were to be lustful in a positive light, and always ask for consent before engaging in sex. Pleasure was something to be valued, not used like a cheaply made toy. They realized they were wrong, and now that we all had each others' trust, we'd watch out for each other, like family.

Much to my disturbance, the reception doubled as a baby shower. It took almost an hour for the worshippers and guests to present me with their gifts, mostly jewelry, dresses, and eerily enough, baby clothing with pentagrams and sayings like 'Daddy's Little Devil' emblazoned on them. Papa found this to be the most hilarious thing in the world, but then again, he had indeed become quite drunk, apparently being easily humored when he was. My blood thinned and my anger bubbled as the sound of laughter and Italian music pounded in my ears. This was all too extreme.

Would this ever end?

Dawn broke, the creeping rays of sunlight shining on the gardens. The worshippers and guests said their goodbyes, free to return to the city to their homes and hotels. However, I was still stranded in the Church with this monster, and my heart ached as I thought about the terrifying wedding night potentially in store for me. I offered to stay behind and help the Ghouls clean up, but Papa took my hand and led me upstairs to the room he made our own in the matter of a day's time. It was situated in the very back of the hallway, away from Verona and Alessa's rooms, so that if I screamed, no one would be able to hear me.

The bed the Ghouls were forced to drag in was the grandest I'd ever seen. The headboard contained a sacrilegious, detailed scene carved entirely out of wood, depicting nude women made to represent the coven dancing before a fire. Broken winged angels gave blowjobs to devils, while nude couples were entangled in coitus, their lips pressed together. The Ghouls surrounded Papa as he sat on his throne, his Grucifix scepter in hand, nearly towering over a nude woman with a baby in her arms.

Me.

"Do you like the woodwork, Rosalina?"

I shuddered at Papa's question, my body tensing up undeneath my heavy wedding dress.

"The headboard was a wedding present carved by my old friend, Giancarlo. I think it perfectly displays our story, don't you think?"

"It's nice, Papa," I said meekly. "The detailing is beautiful."

I stole anxious glances to the floor as Papa slipped off his chasuble and set his miter on his nightstand. His body was lean, making him look younger than fifty-seven, save for a few wisps of silver chest hair. A very noticeable bulge hid underneath his silk, black boxers.

"We are going to consummate our marriage, no?" Papa spoke with a drunken slur, but his voice retained the sharp, crackly rasp that still managed to send shivers down my spine.

"But I'm pregnant!" My protest came out like an angry squeak as I backed into the headboard.

"It doesn't matter. I'll be safe with you. Just..." Already, before even asking for my consent, Papa ripped off my bodice, sending black beads rolling over the floor. "Let me take off your dress."

I sucked in my breath as Papa's fumbling hands found the back zipper and sent my dress falling to the floor, becoming a red heap beneath me, like a puddle of fresh blood. I was all but nude now, black panties concealing my womanhood, but even then I didn't think Papa could even see them. I was so vulnerably exposed and swollen, mortified of being nude so late in my pregnancy. Yet, Papa didn't care at all. In fact, he was aroused, his eyes gazing at my swollen breasts.

"We'll do it doggy style, how does that sound?" Papa approached me from behind and cradled my belly in his hands. "I don't want to hurt our child..."

“ _Our_  child? I thought you said the baby would be sacrificed.”

"No, no, you misunderstood me. The Antichrist thing, it was only a way to persuade the boys into giving me what I need. You see, Rosalina, I am not destined to live much longer. I'm afraid good old Mammon will cut the thread of my life sooner than I hoped... unless I give a child to the coven in exchange for eternal life. I am too old to fuck a girl so hard to get her pregnant, but... you were destined to be with me, remember? Mammon and all his brothers saw potential in you, Rosalina. And we did, too."

So everything Omega warned me about was true. I was only a catalyst for Papa's evil, holding what he needed to stay alive. But it wasn't just the Church of Ghost's own Antichrist. It was Papa's child.

 _His_  child.

For  _his own_  power.

“So… so the whole idea of being a courtesan for this Church… was because of  _you_?” 

Papa nodded. “My Ghouls are so loyal, following their father’s word. They helped me attain what I needed to live on, Rosalina, and of course, you did too.”

“You  _bastard_!”

My hand reached for the nearest blunt object I could find – a bronze goblet – but Papa tightly grabbed onto my wrist, preventing me from even moving any forward. He spun me around so I faced the wall, and tapped my back for me to slightly bend over. Biting my lip in fear of what was to come, I pressed my hands against the wall for dear life as Papa proceeded to thrust into me from behind. I broke out in moans of discomfort, tears streaming down my cheeks. His idea of love was way too painful for me, but of course, he didn't care. The monster kept his hands on me the entire time, stopping every once in a while to brush away strands of hair or slide his fingers against the nape of my neck, trying to turn me on. It failed.

When we made it to the bed, the rest of our consummation passed like a blur. Papa rode me like I was a jerky pony on a carousel, like some cheap whore who had no further plans in her life. His thrusts were brief yet strong, and each hit hurt and made me felt even more unsoiled like I already was. He even had the nerve to come inside of me, disgustingly smoother for reasons I dared not to think about. Papa's touch was not fulfilling, not making me crave for more. I was forcefully married to this monster, only because I was his child's surrogate mother, only because he was so enamored by how I fit into his prophecy.

And it was all Mammon's plan for us.

I turned my head over to the side, where the monster’s face wouldn’t be inches away from mine. Papa’s sudden cold touch nearly startled me. I had learned whenever a Ghoul had sex they slowly became more Ghoul than human, since they indulged in the pleasures of the flesh. His rough hands started to caress my face again, like I was some precious angel who beamed with innocence despite being defiled. He muttered some words in his mother tongue as he pulled me closer to him, placing his hands on my belly in an almost protective manner.

"You truly are the Prime Mover now," Papa said to me, a sickly grin on his still painted face. "You have pleased Mammon greatly, Rosalina, and me as well." He watched in amusement as tears began to roll down my face, and quickly, he brushed them away with a finger. "Do not cry, Rosalina. You should be proud! Because of you, the Ghost Project will thrive. Think of what you are capable of now, Rosalina."

Capable of what? I couldn't think of a single thing anymore. Being a living sex toy, perhaps. But what point was there in living my life anymore?


	46. Fill the Void

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosalie/Omega fluff.

**SEPTEMBER 2014**

**LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA**

For two months now, I've been confined to this godforsaken bedroom, stranded like a virgin in the dungeons. It wasn't like I didn't have a choice to get up and walk around - my condition made it hard for me to even get up, with my swollen ankles and feet. At least I wasn't required to attend rituals at my husband's side, forced to watch with dread as he slowly acquired his place back into the Church. Papa even advised it was best to just stay in bed, as perhaps his son would want to rip his way out of my womb upon hearing the prayers of his true father, Mammon. Papa's words were like fire, the flames to form my own funeral pyre, the flames that extinguished any last trace of my former life. Now that Papa had the power over the people again and had his Prime Mover close by, any decision he made was limitless.

Every day, I received visitors - usually Verona or Earth, my closest friends here. Verona visited me earlier this afternoon, with Alessa weirdly in tow. Ever since she opened her big mouth and let hell break loose, her usually catty demeanor had defrosted. She didn't have any gossip to spread behind my back now, so she probably thought, "Hell, why not show her some compassion." After all, she still held her coveted title as Papa's mistress.

“We’ll try to help you as much as we can, Rosalina,” Verona said sympathetically. Any warmness in my Sister's brown eyes had gone dull in the past week or so. Earth suggested that Verona got into a heated argument with Papa and suffered punishment in his office, whipped into submission just like I had been. “We’re Sisters, remember?”

"And Sisters of Sin always look out for each other," Alessa added, entwining her fingers with Verona's. When she did this, Verona slightly cowered away.

When Earth visited, he came with information about ministry events I missed out on. So far, nothing too special interested me, aside from Papa singing Idolatrine at the worshippers' request and a new Sister of Sin being initiated into the coven. Simple things, really, but nothing compared to the news Earth had for me tonight, judging by his reddened eyes and sober nature, despite the celebration raging on below us.

"He's planning to execute Omega tomorrow night. He tells us he can't have him down in the dungeons forever, so the next best thing to do is execute him as if he were a rebel... a traitor against the Church. And he's saying _you're_ the reason why he's executing him. Alessa's gone off and practically told him everything. At this point, the only thing you can do is just offer up the baby to him, and then he won't hurt anybody. I'm sorry, but—"

"No, Earth, I am not going to do that." The news about Omega's potential death should've heavily alerted me that my own end was near, but shockingly enough, neither dread nor fear came to my head, more like a sense of long-forgotten determination. "He can't scare me anymore with his threats and lies, even if he sees my condition as a weakness."

"But Rosalina, you know—“

" _Rosalie._ "

"Sorry. You know how much authority Papa has now that he's in charge again. He can execute anyone whenever he wants to. All he needs is permission from the elders, and a good enough reason. They're so old they'll just agree with everything he tells them."

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. "I'm sick of playing this game. Go get Omega out of the dungeons, Earth, and be discreet."

"As you wish, mistress."

"There's no need to call me that anymore. Just Rosalie will do."

A few minutes later, three rhythmic knocks on my door frame that instantly reminded me of sunlight and pillow talk rung in my ears. The smile that cracked upon my face made my dry lips crack, but I didn't mind.

Omega had returned. He was dressed in a fresh mask and cassock, restored to his former glory. I held back my sobs as he approached my bedside and kissed my forehead, running his thumb along my cheek. With depression lingering over me since I married Papa, having Omega next to me was the best thing that could ever happen. He'd been imprisoned for his so-called treachery for two months now, and luckily for me, my condition made me stray away from finding him. In that time, however, I realized I needed Omega more than ever.

"Rosalie, I've missed you so much." Omega's raspy voice gave me tingles once again. He sank into the sheets with me and caressed my hair like he hadn't seen me in ages.

"It hasn't been forever, right?" I pulled his hood away from his eyes. “It’s surely felt like it. I feel terrible that I haven't been able to see you!"

"It's all right. It's too dangerous down there for you and little Ghuleh anyway." Omega had to lean up to run his hand over my belly. "Damn, you  _are_  huge! You're sure you're not having twins?"

"Omega, shut up!" I laughed, slapping his shoulder. "And no, I am not having twins. At least, I don't think so."

Our little Ghuleh kicked over the spot where Omega rested his hand. "She kicked!" A series of mad chuckles could be heard from behind his mask. "Holy shit, she... she knows I'm there!"

I swore my heart melted. "You know, it's funny how happy you are that I'm having a girl, Omega. I thought you’d want a boy."

“Well, ah…” Omega's voice went up a pitch, flustered by the thought. “It would be cool if we were able to have both, huh?”

“You know, my dad’s side of the family had twins, but it skipped every other generation. But twins would be a bit of a handful, huh?” I sighed. “I’m just worried Papa’s going to do something drastic with our little Ghuleh once she’s born. First, he’s planning to execute you, and then me, and then possibly her…”

“"That's not happening. Papa's been insane with his prophecies lately and I can't believe anyone still believes him. This shit could land him in jail in the long run."

"But you know everything he's said was bullshit in the end, right? Everything was just a scare tactic to keep people into line."

Omega stiffened. "What are you talking about?"

"Omega... Papa raped me on our wedding night. He told me he made up everything about the Antichrist just to fuel his crazy fantasies of becoming higher up in the Church. It all had to do with the lineage of Papas... and perhaps soon he'll be the most powerful out of anybody! He said he wants to kill you, Omega, just because of the bond we've formed!"

Omega held me in his arms. "I'm not going to let that bastard hurt me, Rosalie, and I won't let him hurt you or the baby, either. All these years of touring with the old fool made me realize that the Ghost Project is nothing more than just earning money for churning out the same old shit. We're just trying to suck people in, all while giving them nothing in return. That's how Papa wants to run this ministry, and I'm sick of it. He's fucked up me and my brothers all for his sick purposes, and soon, we're going to stop him."

"Hopefully he's gone by the new album," I remarked with a light chuckle. "If... you know, that ever happens."

"Of course there'll be new music, Rosalie. Music is a part of all our souls. We can't just let it die."

"I know." I leaned back into the bedframe. "I know how much it all means to you five. Music's a part of me, too. It helped me survive. Music's my ambrosia."

Omega didn't answer. His blue eyes were focused on something in the distance, a phantom image I couldn't see. Immediately, I knew something personal also lingered in his mind, something he was too afraid to admit to me.

"What's wrong, Omega?" I tilted his head toward me.

"Well, uh... I've been thinking about how I wish for my life to be like the past. I didn't have to worry about pleasing the devil or fucking girls for some old man's satisfaction. And then, I remembered the old times in Sweden, when me and my brother would just run around and do our own thing. Things were so much easier back then, but now... I've indulged too much in sin. Me and my brother focused way too much on what we wanted instead of what the special ones in our lives needed."

"We're going back to Sweden soon, aren't we?" I tried reassuring him. "Once Papa's gone and we've got enough funds, we could just go and start everything over."

"It's not that." Omega sighed in anguish. "I'm... I'm going to be a terrible father, Rosalie. I don't know what's right anymore. All these years of being surrounded by everything dark and evil's gonna catch up to me eventually."

"Look, I... I can't believe this is coming from me, perhaps the most anxiety-filled person in the whole world. Nothing from the Ghost Project will matter by the time we've got our shit together. The only thing that matters is us and our daughter. Your brother was telling me the other day about how good you are with kids. Do you remember the young boy you found nearly dying in the woods from starvation?"

Omega's head shot up. "Yeah... that was during our sabbatical with the first Papa. We hid out in the woods as we slowly adapted to our Ghoulish states, and then... I saw that boy. The poor child's parents were killed in a car accident and he had nowhere to go."

"See? That was a thread of your fatherly intuition calling out to you. I think once little Ghuleh is born, all of this will evaporate. It's a new life that'll save us from the death of our sanity."

Omega sniffled, fighting back tears. “How is it that you always know how to talk me out of the darkness? You’re like the only one that’s ever consoled me when I needed it.”

"It's because I've been there too, Omega. I want to help you... if we're going to get out of here we have to set aside our pain for our freedom." I smiled and brought Omega's hands to my lips, kissing his silver rings. "Before Earth comes back for you, is there anything you want to say to your daughter?"

"You... you want me to talk to her?" Nervousness tinged Omega's voice again. "I... I'm not sure if I can, Rosalie, I don't know what to—“

I shook my head. “She needs to hear her father's voice. She needs to hear your way of speaking, your words. Now, go ahead, I think she's waiting."

"Well, in that case." Omega lowered his head down to my belly. "Uhh...  _hej_ , little Ghuleh. I'm your dad. I... I don't know much about you yet, but I swear your mother and I will protect you from this dangerous world and the manipulative people that dwell in it. You're... you're the light that's going to enter our darkness, and... Damn, Rosalie, I don’t know what else to say."

"You should sing her the song," I said calmly. “You know, the lullaby your brother told me about the other day?"

"Oh, he told you? I've only got the first verse done, but okay."

When Omega started to sing, I beamed so tightly my cheeks started to ache. His singing voice was clear and somehow managed to hide the raspy tone he usually spoke with, although the slight Swedish accent on some of his words was still there. I couldn't think of any words to describe his singing other than 'beautiful' and 'serene', how I initially described Papa's voice when I first heard it.

 _Innocent soul, born to darkness_  
_Sent down to unholy light_  
_I will shield you from the world_  
_and its wicked ways and monstrous plights_

"There, that's all I have," Omega said quickly when he finished. "I haven't written a proper song in years, let alone a lullaby.” My eyes started to droop. “But... oh anyway, since I'm noticing your mother starting to fall asleep on me, I'll tell you a little about her. Your mother – her name is Rosalie – is the most beautiful, intelligent, and kindest woman I have ever met. Granted, the circumstances of how we met weren't all that great, but we became friends pretty fast. It was when I became her protector in this Church of Ghost and we befriended each other did I know I loved her."

"And then, I loved him," I intervened, widening my eyes to show Omega I was still awake. "Your father is a Nameless Ghoul, which means a while back, he lost his name and his soul to receive the power of music. But let's not go into that. I think your father is pretty humane for a Ghoul. He's got more of a personality than the other four combined – well, your uncles are being nicer lately, but still. I think he's the best rhythm guitarist out there, and he's also so sweet and compassionate. Oh, and he’s a bit of a wise ass, too."

" _Hej_!"

"But anyway, little Ghuleh, we want to tell you that as your parents, we love you. You're going to be a beautiful little girl and we're going to raise you away from all the dark influences and people that have been making our lives a living Hell for the past few months."

“And if Papa dares to lay a hand on you, I swear I'm going to kill—“

"Omega, let's not tell her about him. He's not going to matter to her."

"Right. Anyway, like your mother said, I love you, and I can't wait to see you once you're born." He pressed his lips against my belly. “I’m going to be a better father than Papa ever was to his boys.”


	47. Prime Mover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chaos strikes in the Church. Tw for character death.

On the next night of ritual, Papa came to my bedroom, loudly tapping his scepter on the floor to receive my attention.

I was in the middle of writing the memories that made me happy, things I wanted to remember before I would be slain. But as the images of the Las Vegas skyline and the Stratosphere played in my head, I became so distracted that the red pen leaked all over the white sheet of paper. Every night, I reminded myself of how I was so absorbed in my worship that I killed somebody I loved. The devil’s influence loomed over me, tempting me to act upon my desires and not my needs. 

"Rosalina," Papa rasped when I wouldn't respond to his tapping. "I have come to take you to ritual tonight. The worshippers are just dying to see you lately." He shook his head. "I suppose the rituals have become too boring without your presence."

"And what if I don't want to go?" I asked thinly.

"You don't have a choice. You've been stuck in here for quite a long time, so I suggest you get some fresh air."

"Give me a minute, then." I sighed and rose from the bed. I wore no makeup and an unflattering maternity ripping at the seams. "I need to change into something more of your preference."

"No. That will do you fine. After all, we must remind the worshippers how important your new role is."

Bottling up my rage, I took Papa's arm and followed him downstairs to the atrium. The reactions from the worshippers were mixed. Some were still excited to see me, whispering 'Zombie Queen' with excitement, while others gave me cold stares, some even calling me 'whore' and 'traitor' under their breaths. The mood of the rituals definitely changed since Papa's return. They were once lively and entertaining, but a sense of doom lingered as the Ghouls played Infestissumam with  disinterest. 

Before the usual events of dancing and sermons, there were two songs: ‘Satan Prayer’ and ‘Prime Mover’. Papa sang about “the coming of seed” and to hear his “Anti Nicene Creed”. The old man was still desperate for sexual action, despite fucking me doggy style on our wedding night and having his way with Alessa every night.

Little Ghuleh kicked the hardest she's ever kicked, eerily in tune with the beats of 'Prime Mover'. Essentially, she was giving me a free trial of Hell, but I had already been through enough for the past year. I slumped back on Papa's throne, wishing that Omega was by my side to whisper sweet reassurances in my ear. Besides, the music felt dead without his presence.

All of a sudden, my thighs got wet from something other than pleasure. My heart began pounding in fear, and the beats only grew faster when I realized the cushion of the throne was becoming soaked. I crossed my legs tightly, hoping the gushing and throbbing pain inside of my belly would stop, but the contractions arrived in full force.

Some of the worshippers noticed, their eyes widening and become soft with concern from behind their masks. A certain gold-masked girl even drifted away from the crowd, trying to get the attention of a worshipper wearing a mask of blue-and-silver feathers, pointing at me frantically, hoping Papa wouldn't notice. But this was it. This was the end.

The strongest contraction yet forced me to release a scream so loud that it overpowered the music. I was going into labor.

_Early._

“Rosalina, is it time?” Papa gestured for the Ghouls to stop the song and rushed over to my side. His hand reached out to touch my belly, but I was quick to slap him away. “Don’t be scared. Mammon will be pleased!"

"Fuck you!" I shouted through another contraction. "I don't care what Mammon thinks!" I wanted so badly to curse him out and tell him everything he did wrong in front of all the worshippers, but my contractions were getting quicker and stronger. I dug my fingernails into the cushion in pain, curling my toes as I tried to endure.

"Women," Papa remarked to the worshippers, rolling his eyes. “I don't blame her, though! Ghouls, are you strong enough to lift Rosalina back to our bedroom? I require her to be in comfort before she withers away.”

The Ghouls slowly lifted me off of the throne as Papa began to sing an acapella rendition of 'Here Comes the Sun' to the chattering worshippers. At least I wouldn't be strapped down to the altar bed, forced to give birth in front of them. After the Ghouls laid me down on the bed, most of them disappeared without a single word, all except for Earth. His blue eyes crinkled in worry and concern, and he soothingly ran a hand through my hair.

"I'm going to get help, okay? I'll get Omega out of the dungeons, and I'll go get Luce, too. Stay put, all right Rosalie?"

I nodded, too much in pain to speak. My life as I knew it was over. Maybe I would be lucky and I'd die in childbirth instead of at Papa's hand. I'd truly be the martyr of the Church of Ghost then, wouldn't I? I fought bravely, but the show had to end eventually. I put up a great fight, but now, I lost.

I then heard dainty, small footsteps approaching the room. I bit on my lip, my fears resurging, and looked away from whoever decided to visit me in my final hours.

"Hey, Rosalina." I turned my head to see my normally perking Sister, her scarlet hair a choppy mess. Dark, restless circles rimmed Alessa's eyes, making her appear almost like a zombie, and the kohl on her eyes had smudged, forming streaks underneath her eyes. She hovered over my bedside, running an oddly calm hand through my hair. “You’re going into labor, huh? Don’t worry, it’ll all be over soon…” She then lifted my head back and placed something cold against the delicate flesh of my neck.

A knife.

I screamed for help, but Alessa covered my mouth with her hand. “You don’t deserve Papa’s love, you cold-hearted whore! I worked so hard to get accepted into this Church, and _this_ is how I'm treated? I was nearly tortured to death, I had to fuck men I didn’t even know, all for that old, fucking fool, and _this_ is how I get rewarded? Papa just left me for no real reason at all! All he wanted to do was make your life a living hell, but he got carried away like he always does and just left me and Verona in the dust!"

“I told you I don’t love him!”

“Quiet!” Alessa pressed the blade harder against my throat. “Next time you talk, you’re dead, as well as the little vermin in your womb. Listen well, whore. I’m going to go out there and tell Papa that the labor was so bad that you died. You’d rather die than be with him, I know it. Everyone knows it, but you won’t admit it. He could’ve been spoiling me rotten, but no, he was so obsessed with you just because he saw you as the perfect victim for our plans. And then, when he actually was starting to like you, you denied him, and went off with that fat freak Omega. Papa needs to know all of the truth, and I’m going to make sure it happens.”

“No!” I screamed. “Where’s Omega? What did you do to him?”

“I can give a fuck less where he is right now. Let’s get back to this first. Who you want dead first… you, or the baby?”

“Neither of us.”

“What was that?”

“I said neither of us!”

In my limited state, I jerked my elbow into Alessa's face, which made her lose her balance and fall down to her knees. As she held onto the edge of the bed to try and get back up, I used my right foot and kicked her in the stomach, the blow so hard that she stumbled and crashed right into the wall behind her.

“So you're gonna try fighting me, huh?” Alessa laughed, although fear and pain lingered in her eyes. “You’re in fucking labor, how are you going to move? Why are you hurting me, Rosalina? We’re Sisters, remember?”

“I thought we were Sisters, Alessa. You helped me get to where I am with the Ghouls to win this game, and if it wasn’t for you, I’d be a sacrifice!”

“Are you seriously trying to make yourself sound any vainer than you already are?”

“I’m not vain! I had to play this stupid game to survive this hellhole. I played it, Verona played it, and you most definitely did as well. We were going to make sure that Papa was dead together! Now, you’re backing out because you love him so much. You just need to accept he’s never going to fucking like you, or me either, because he’s got no idea what true love is. He’s tortured us, fucked with us, and you think he’d be the perfect lover? Forget it, Alessa!”

Alessa smiled at me wickedly, just like she did when we first met at Treasure Island many months ago. After letting a hearty, psychotic laugh, she began to charge towards me again, but before she could approach me any closer, a black blur crashed into her, throwing her to the ground. I covered my eyes as I heard Alessa’s head go smacking into the ground, and when I uncovered my eyes, she lay in a bloody sprawl, her lifeless eyes gazing up at the sky as if she was about to ascend to Heaven, her knife plunged into her heart.

The black blur emerged from the ground and took off their hood. It appeared as if once again, Verona had come to my aid.

“Verona?” I asked in disbelief. “You… killed our Sister. Why?”

“It was a mercy killing,” Verona answered solemnly, approaching my side. “Her belief in Papa loving her was so strong that it was taking over who she used to be. If I hadn’t killed her, she would’ve killed you. I may have shared her beliefs once, but I realized the truth. We were just his courtesans, like you were for the Ghouls.”

“I didn’t do anything,” I said with guilt. “It wasn’t my intention to break her.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” Verona took my hand. “Alessa is free. Papa can’t rule over her now. She was so corrupted with the thought that Papa loved her, but really, it was the opposite. He’s done it to so many innocent girls now, and it’s time to avenge their deaths. It’s why Papa’s going to die tonight. He deserves it.”

Luce entered the bedroom, tearing off her blue-and-silver feathered mask. "Don't worry, Rosalina, I've let him know that his daughter's on her way."

“Please don’t tell me you didn’t send up Papa!” I cried.

Thankfully, I was wrong. At once, the door opened and Earth rushed his brother to my side. Omega bent his head down to kiss me, his hand gently brushing the tears of fear away from my cheek. He was finally here, my lover and the father of my child, the only Nameless Ghoul who really mattered to me.

“You’re going to be okay, Rosalie,” Omega whispered to me reassuringly. “It’ll be over soon, don’t worry. Just think about seeing the baby for the first time, okay?”

“I’m trying,” I said, my voice warbling.

“Rosalina, are you okay?” Luce asked.

“Does it look like I’m fucking okay?” I didn’t intend to come off as mean, but pain was slowly taking over me. “I’m having my fucking baby right now!”

“Rosalina, don’t worry. I’m also a midwife in the gentile world, so I’ve seen and done these things before.” Luce wandered off to the end of the bed, and proceeded to spread my legs open and pull down my panties. “I think you’re already about six centimeters dilated. It’s going to be a little while more.”

“I’m going to need the fucking epidural, then!” I hissed through gritted teeth, digging my fingernails into the blankets.

“I wonder if Papa would let us get to the hospital,” Verona wondered. “This is kind of—“

“No, Verona! Papa can’t know about this! He—“

In a dreadful case of irony, Papa drifted into the room and pushed Earth off to the side. I screamed for what felt like the millionth time this evening alone as Luce and Verona tried to calm me down, placing the blankets over my eyes. My end was near, and Papa was the Grim Reaper, an assistant of the Infernal Majesty's so my soul would be claimed. I was of no purpose or importance to him anymore. I was literally delivering the very person he wanted most for his fame and glory.

I looked up from the blankets briefly and watched Earth and Omega punch blows to Papa's face. He was invincible from them, regaining his strength quickly to strike Omega to the ground, which dented his mask. Omega rose, about to strike again with his brother, but then, Papa's eyes widened and clutched the wall. He had begun to cough out blood, his airways tightening as he clutched his throat with his hand. It was unusual to see a man whose posture and demeanor was normally threatening and intimidating writhing on the floor in pain, but for me, it calmed me down and even made me laugh weakly.

“What’s happening to him?” Verona asked in horror, rushing to Papa’s side. “Did Water ever put the poison in the wine?”

“I don’t think he did,” Omega replied nervously.

"Take him out of here!" Earth exclaimed, rising back to his feet. His hand was over one of his eyes, blood seeping from between his fingers. "If he wakes up, the girl is fucked!"

"I've got him," Omega replied, with Verona following closely behind him.

"No, Omega, don't leave me!" I cried, grabbing onto his hand. "Please, I need you here with me..."

"I'm only leaving for ten minutes," Omega said reassuringly, rushing back to my bed. "We're going to drag Papa out and hide him in the dungeons. I'll be back before you know it."

I grunted, another contraction hitting me. "Make sure he doesn't try to kill you if he happens to wake up, okay? And don't let the virgins tackle you down."

"I won't, I promise. They don't deserve my loyalty to them. I love you, Rosalie."

"I love you too, Omega." I kissed the beak of his mask before he went to go collect Alessa's corpse, carrying it in his arms like a dead animal. Earth followed his brother with Papa's body, while Verona trudged behind them nervously.


	48. Mother Superior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the midst of Rosalie’s labor, Mother Superior makes a visit.

"You're still six centimeters dilated, Rosalina," Luce said as she checked in between my legs, to see if I made any progress. It would be a few more hours before I could start pushing. "How are you feeling right now?"

"Sore," I groaned. "You know, Omega said that little Ghuleh is going to be really strong. I can see where she's getting her impulses from. Her own damn father, that's for sure."

Luce chuckled softly. "And do you think she's going to receive her mother's kindled spirit?"

"Maybe. The kid kicks me every time I open my mouth to sing. She's just begging to come out of me now, I guess."

"How is she doing, Luce?"

An older woman stood by the door, watching over Luce and I with darkened eyes. She wore an old-fashioned nurse's uniform of white and grey, and her slate grey hair pulled back into a white kerchief. A Grucifix rosary hung from her neck, and she wore several rings on her fingers. I scrambled through my head, trying to remember who this woman was. I've definitely seen her before, but nothing was ringing a bell.

"Mother Superior!" Luce gasped and fell to her knees. “How fitting for you to make your presence known at this time."

"Emeritus had sent me a message a while ago saying his wife is due to give birth very soon, and here is the young thing now!” Mother drifted to my side and placed her cold hand on my forehead. “Oh, my dear child, you look so pale and in pain! Rosalina is your given name, correct?"

"Yes, Mother," I replied quietly, forcing myself to be polite. "Have we met before?"

"I believe we have. Do you recall when you first entered this church, waiting for the moment when you would become one of us? You lay on the altar bed, your body exposed to us unholy folk, our blood rubbed into the depths of your flesh?" So she was one of the witches from the coven that lounged around on the couches, the one who comforted me as Papa fucked me, hoping that I would conceive his son on the first try.

"Yes. Are you—“

"A witch?" Mother chuckled lightly. "I am indeed, yes. I possess blood magic that our Dark Majesty had personally granted me, much like how the Ghouls received the powers to play music. Only, I was luckily spared from the scarring... I only needed to offer up my body for a night of sinful pleasures! I came here to see how things are going with you. And they are...?"

"Very painful." I stifled another groan as a new contraction came. "I wish this whole process could be... uh... sped up a bit."

"Your wish is my command."

Mother drifted over to my side and placed a hand on my belly. After a moment, she recoiled back, just like Air did when he discovered I was pregnant, and threw a cold glare in Luce's direction.

"You do happen to know that Rosalina was the woman destined to be the mother of the Church's Antichrist, correct, child?" Mother snapped. "How come I cannot detect a son inside of her?"

"I only spoke the truth," Luce sputtered nervously. "I took a swab out of her and brought it back to the clinic I work for, and the information read that she was going to have a girl! I saw no son in her!"

"You foolish girl!" Mother yelled. "You are spreading lies to save the life of the Prime Mover! You know she is scheduled to be slain after the child is given to Emeritus, don't you? She is merely a prized sacrifice for Mammon. Your lies are defying the very meaning of the Ghost project!”

"Mother Superior, please, no!" Luce screamed, backing into the wall. "I only reported what I saw! Please, believe me, I am not spreading lies!"

With a wave of her hand, Mother was able to magically jerk Luce's head to the left, and her neck broke swiftly with a snap. Luce collapsed to the floor with a dull thud, blood seeping out of her head. Another life that meant so much in the Church was gone, and I couldn't do anything to stop this powerful witch.

"Now then, Rosalina,” Mother continued, as if she hadn’t just killed an innocent woman, “I will gladly speed up the process of your labor, if you so wish to get the birthing done with quickly. Needless to say, the rest of us are as well."

“Ww-what’s going on here?” I asked, my body shaking in fear. “Ww-what are you doing to me? Just let me have—“

Mother placed her hand on my belly again, and this time, her magic, silent spell worked. A new form of pain shot through me, surging through my stomach and in between my legs. My head fell back into the pillow as I tried doing breathing exercises to relax myself, holding back my screams. Nothing was going to work in this situation regarding mine and my child's safety. Mother Superior was just another woman extremely loyal to the Church, and perhaps the most important in ensuring that Papa Emeritus won this dastardly game.

Omega, Earth, and Verona returned to the bedroom five minutes later. Omega rushed to my bedside, running his hand through my hair and wiping the sweat off my forehead with one of the handkerchiefs he always seemed to carry around. Verona nearly screamed when she saw Luce's corpse, and paled at the sight of Mother Superior patiently waiting next to her.

"It is so good to see you three again," Mother told my friends, "and it is especially nice to see you all so concerned with Rosalina's state of being. Can any of you tell me where Emeritus is right now?"

"He's passed out," Omega replied bluntly. Quickly, he then added, “First-time father shock, I guess.”

"Oh, is that so? I never knew he had that streak in him. Granted, I do remember when he was not seen in several days after the birth of his stepdaughter, but that's—“

"Oh, so he's gone through this before?" I shouted. "I am going to fucking kill that bastard!" I let out a disgruntled scream, my pelvis burning and throbbing. "Oh fuck, she’s coming!"

Omega squeezed my hand in protection and shot a cold glance in Mother's direction as she rose from her seat and spread my legs wide open.

"It's time, Rosalina,” Mother said coldly. “Are you ready?"

"No!"

"It's okay, Rosalie," Verona said, her voice quivering in uncertainty. "Mother Superior knows what she's doing, I think. Do you want me to stay with you?"

"If you would, and Omega, too!"

" _He_  can't be in here!" Mother said sharply.

"For your information, _he_ is the father of my child, and I say he should be in here with me!"

"Are you saying Papa was  _not_  the one to impregnate you?" Mother’s voice was tinged with anger.

"Does it even fucking matter? Just let me have my baby in peace!”

"You might want to get out of here, brother," Omega told his brother, his voice colored with uneasiness. "Things are going to get intense."


	49. Lilla Ros

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little Ghuleh is born. Tw for childbirth.

"All right, on the next contraction, start—“

Mother began to coach me, but the next contraction had already come, piercing through me and setting my whole body on fire. I bore down and pushed as tight as I could, my body shaking in my failed attempt. Omega was holding my hand, whispering things in my ear, but I wasn't able to concentrate on him. Verona kept on wiping my forehead with the handkerchief, running her hand through my hair. At least this was better than Papa hovering over my bedside, constantly reminding me that his prophecy was about to come true.

"How is she doing, Mother?" Verona asked calmly, although it was quite obvious she was scared out of her mind - scared for me, her best friend.

"I can see a little of the head, child," Mother replied.

"Omega, I can't do this..." I whimpered as the next contraction arrived, nearly paralyzing me.

"Shh, you'll be fine," Omega said, kissing my shoulder. "After all of this is over, I'm going to slit Mother Superior's throat wide open. She's going to use her power to fuck us up, I know for sure. I can sense it."

"Another push, Rosalina," Mother instructed, and I obeyed. The pain was tighter, the contraction ripping through me like a burning knife to the skin, but a form of strength was slowly coming to me. It was determined but residual, reminding me that this will all be over soon. I laid back into the pillows as the contraction wavered away, but this was far from over. "I'm starting to see the head more. I think a few more pushes will work."

"Are you sure about that?" Omega asked.

"If you cannot recall, I am a nurse," Mother replied with a cold sense of pride. "I did this with Leona, and I can surely do it with the Antichrist of our Church.”

"SHE IS NOT THE FUCKING ANTICHRIST!"  I screamed. This new, incoming contraction was the worst of them all. I felt like my pelvis was shattering into a million pieces inside of me. I wouldn't be surprised if death had come to greet me now, earlier than when Papa expected.

"Oh good, it's almost out!" Mother said, her eyes narrowing down. "One more push, Rosalina, one more big push!"

"Come on, Rosalina, you can do this!" Verona said encouragingly.

"I'm... ugh... trying!" The scream that came out of me was guttural and raw, something I had never heard before. I dug my fingernails into Omega's palm, trying to suppress the pain, biting down on my lip so hard it drew blood.

"Damn, Rosalie, you hurt my fucking hand," Omega said with a slight laugh.

"Sorry," I said, my voice still lingering of pain. The pain beneath me had subsided, evaporating into nothing. I laid my head back into the pillow and took a deep breath, letting fresh air filter my lungs.

And then, I heard a baby's shrill cry, piercing the fearful silence. Tears flowed down my cheeks, but this time, they weren't of anger or humiliation.

They were finally of joy.

"It's a girl, Rosalie!" Verona said excitedly, assisting Mother with wrapping the baby into a blanket swaddle. "Luce was right, it's a girl!"

I turned to Omega and threw my arms over him, heaving happy sobs. His lips brushed against my cheek, and he gently tilted my head so that I saw Verona walking over to us, little Ghuleh in her arms. Little Ghuleh had inherited my dark blonde hair, and when she opened her eyes, they were a bright blue, just like her father's. She didn’t look Ghoulish at all – her skin was a rosy shade of pink. She was so beautiful, so perfect... all the adjectives that described her didn't even matter at this point. 

"Omega, she's so beautiful..." I murmured, stroking the baby’s velvety cheek. She let out a soft cry. "Hi, my little Ghuleh, I'm your mommy... I promise me and your father will keep you away from the evils of this world. We promise you sincerely." I gestured to Omega, wanting to hear his first words to his daughter.

"Oh, great, here we go again," Omega groaned playfully. "Uh...  _hej_ , little Ghuleh, I'm glad to see you came here all safe. You probably remember me, right? I'm your dad. Umm... you look just like your mother, beautiful and brilliant. I love you, and I think I’ve got a little song I need to sing to you."

I smiled sweetly at Omega as he sang the lullaby, kissing him on the cheek when he was finished. In the current moment, everything seemed right. My daughter was delivered smoothly, albeit with some magic involved, and was perfectly healthy, Papa was knocked out for who knows who long. At this rate, life was finally heading in the right direction!

"Do you have a name for her?" Verona whispered, smiling down at the baby.

"I'm not sure yet," I murmured. "Omega, any ideas?"

Omega pondered. "Linnea. I always liked that name for a girl."

"Linnea..." I cooed. "It has a nice ring to it. Our little Ghuleh's name is Linnea!"

But before we were able to celebrate Linnea's birth, another sharp pain tore through my body.

"Oh, fuck!" I shouted, digging my toes into the mattress again as I tried to hold back the pain.

"Rosalie, what's wrong?" Verona asked worriedly.

"It feels like I'm having another contraction!" Omega took Linnea from me as I squeezed the pillow in my hand. "Could there be... another one?"

Omega glanced over at Mother Superior, shock flaring in his eyes. "Explain this!"

"With pleasure. Rosalina did request for her labor and delivery to be sped up," Mother explained, "so I gave her what she wanted. Better than suffering through hours of pain without an epidural, wouldn't you say? But, your midwife Luce has not followed my word. When she told you Rosalina would be having a daughter, she was supposed to do me a tiny favor for her work. You see, Luce is one of our very own witches. She was present as your initiation ceremony, Rosalina. Do you remember Lucretia?"

I didn't respond, instead groaning at my next contraction.

"Well, now that Lucretia has disappointed me and did not follow my directions, she simply had to go. When I sped up your labor, Rosalina, I had you repay me with a rather important favor."

Verona's face fell in utter terror, putting two and two together in what Mother had done. She bit down on her darkly painted lip to stifle back a cry. 

"Congratulations, Rosalina. You're about to deliver a son."


	50. La Mantra Mori

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A twist ensues.

The inflaming, throbbing pain of childbirth made its unwelcome return. I already felt the second baby - the son Mother Superior had created somehow through her own magic - sliding out of me, ripping me down below. Without Mother barking directions at me, I started to push again, my face draining of the beating energy it once held.

"You  _bitch!_ " Verona yelled, slamming Mother Superior into the wall with a thud. "You gave her another baby just because you want Papa to try and get back his power! You're trying to make our lives a living Hell that we can't ever leave!"

Mother Superior stifled back a laugh. "We cannot let the Church of Ghost's purpose die, child! Rosalina was destined by Emeritus himself to be the one to carry the Church's Antichrist, don’t you remember? Once I discovered she was carrying a girl, the daughter of the Aether Ghoul nonetheless, I knew something had to be done." She then turned to Omega. "Admit it, the brotherhood is dying. All of your Ghouls are losing your powers, and the lust that fuels your soul is dying. You've formed yourself a nice relationship with the girl, Aether, but tonight, all of it will perish. You will die, and so will Rosalina."

"No!" I screamed, my body shaking with sobs and contractions. "Omega, tell her we won't take her shit! Tell her we'll fucking kill her!"

"I'm sorry, my children, but it was Emeritus's prophecy," Mother said coldly. "It must be fulfilled if we want Mammon's messages to be spread."

“Fuck Mammon’s messages!” Omega shouted. “They’ve destroyed what matters most to us! Papa's destroyed me and my brothers, and we won't take it anymore!"

“Are you thinking of love by any chance?” Mother shrieked with laughter. “I thought I told you Ghouls quite clearly that love no longer exists to you. Lust is the only way to attain pleasure! Love is dead. Love corrupts the soul, and you've let it destroy you!"

Another corpse joined tonight’s body count, her skull cracked and her head bleeding, seeping onto the velvet, wine-colored carpet. Verona smacked Papa's chalice repeatedly over Mother Superior's head, and broke her neck using only her firm grip. She wiped away the blood sprung onto her face, her eyes glowing with malice. My Sister was indeed a murderer, having caused the deaths of Alessa and now Mother Superior, but it wasn't for entertainment or for sociopathic fun. It was for protection; by killing the people who wanted this evil order of Papa Emeritus to thrive, the Church would stand for its true purpose again, to usher in those who wished to dwell in the darkness, as Omega had told me.

Verona wiped her bloody hands on her dress and sat in between my legs. "I see the head, Rosalie! Keep on pushing!"

I squeezed Omega's hand as I continued to push, despite the excruciating pain numbing down my whole body. My vision started to become hazy, almost like I was being pushed out of reality and closer to death. My life was literally fading from my grasp. I couldn't hold onto it anymore, even though Omega's words of encouragement and Linnea's cries reminded me that now, after all I've been through, I had something I could've lived for.

"Here he comes!"

After one more push, Verona held the bloodied body of my son in her hands, crying and wriggling and desperately wanting his mother. He too looked perfect, more human than Ghoul, just like his sister. But as I held out my hands to greet my son, my head began thumping and pounding, my pulse loud in my ears.

"Rosalie?" Omega's voice was faint, a quiet echo. "Rosalie!"

The side of my head fell onto the pillow. I had been pushed into the dark void of sleep, one step closer to death.

For the first time since joining the Church of Ghost, I prayed to God that I wasn't dying.


	51. SKIP

Due to recent storyline changes, this chapter's currently being rewritten! I'm getting rid of it as to not ruin the story's continuity. Stay tuned!


	52. The First Day of Light

"Rosalie? Rosalie!"

I awoke to hear Omega desperately calling my name, pleading for me to come back to life.

"Rosalie, please come back to me, please. I need you so much right now, to survive through this curse. Papa’s going to wake up and try to kill the twins… you can’t leave them vulnerable to his power. They need their mother... oh, Rosalie, please don’t die… I love you.”

"I'm here, Omega," I said calmly, resting my hand against his mask.

"Whh-what? Rosalie, you're... you're alive?"

The look in Omega's eyes was heartbreaking to see. His eyes were puffy and red from crying, filled with his inky, black tears again. He seriously thought I died through the blood loss, the pain of childbirth making me succumb to death. His hood was even soaked from his tears.

"Yes, Omega, I'm alive. I couldn't just leave you here to raise our children through Papa's wrath. After all you showed me and made me feel, I couldn't leave you behind. It would've been too cruel. Surely, I would've accepted death, but it's too cowardly for me now. I have much more important things in mind."

Omega leaned in to kiss my forehead, but as he did, he lost his grip on his mask and his hood came off, revealing his scarred face. Before he could throw the hood back over his head, I stopped him with my elbow and kissed him right on the lips. It was like in  _The Phantom of the Opera_  when Christine kissed the Phantom out of pity, but this time, the Phantom had won Christine's heart. Granted, the Phantom wasn't a manipulative jerk this time around, but the man who sold his soul for music and thought true love was gone was revitalized once again.

"You've made me so happy, Rosalie," Omega whispered. "Just when the Church was about to banish our souls, we have something more important to focus on."

"Something made from our love," I added, "although I've been saying that for a really long time. And besides, it sounds like a bad Elton John lyric or something."

"No, it doesn't, because it's true."

"Hey, Omega?" The bedroom door burst open, and out came Verona with two babies in her arms. My daughter and my son. "You told me Martin was coming in to help move the baby furniture, so I—" She froze when she noticed me sitting up in the bed. "Holy shit, Rosalie!"

"Hi, Verona," I said weakly as Verona handed the babies over to Omega and came to my bedside to kiss me on the cheek. "I was just telling Omega that I decided to stay here instead of just die... because dying is just the coward's way out of difficulty. I didn't want to leave the people that mean the most to me behind, especially you. You've become my dearest friend, Sister. Your kindness is something I didn't want to go to waste."

"Oh, Rosalie, you don't need to say that!" Tears ran down Verona's cheeks. "I... I just wanted to help you, that's all. I realized how much Papa was taking advantage of you, and enough was enough."

"You really did want me to come out and show the Ghouls how powerful I can be," I added. "You really helped me change." I sighed and wiped away my own incoming tears. "Fuck, I'm sounding redundant. I think you get it."

"Of course I do, Rosalie." Verona hugged me again. "I'm so happy you’re alive. If you weren't, none of us would know how to defeat Papa and his tyranny over the Church."

"Did he wake up?"

"Thankfully, no," Omega replied. "He's going to be out sick for the next couple of days after that heart attack he had. They're drugging him up with meds, telling him to lay off the wine for a while. But he still remembers his plan for the Church, involving our son." All of a sudden, one of the babies in Omega's arms let out a shrill cry.

"Oh, let me see our son, Omega," I said quietly as he came over to my bedside. He gently placed the baby boy in my arms, and at once, his crying decreased. "He's so adorable. I think he looks just like his Daddy... well, when he was human, maybe." The boy's eyes opened – blue, just like his sister's. "Same eyes and same hair... perfect. I'm going to have trouble telling them apart."

Omega chuckled. "Did you have an idea as to what to name him?"

"I told you I'm bad at coming up with names." I brushed back some of the baby's blonde hair. His eyes widened up when he saw me, and he started to gurgle. "Hello, my little boy! Aren't you cute? You gave me quite a fright when we found out you were in my belly the whole time. But don't worry, you didn't do anything wrong. I'm going to love you as much as your sister. Now, what to name you..."

"Why don't you name him Damien?” Omega suggested.

"Damien." I repeated. "Hmm..." Naming my son Damien was a good way to honor my best friend who helped me break out of my shell. "Okay, Damien it is!" I looked up at Verona. "Verona, do you want to be their godmother?"

"Me?" Verona gasped in disbelief. "You want me to...?"

"After what you've done to protect us, I think you deserve something special. I trust you with my children's lives, Verona, so I think you should accept."

"But... but I'm just a whore to this Church." 

"Not anymore," Omega said. "You're much more to  _us._  You're our loyal friend now, after what you did to protect Rosalie from that bastard of a monster. Surely I'd agree with Rosalie when she said she trusts you."

"In that case, I'll gladly accept," Verona said happily. "I'd do anything for my two best friends."

I smiled genuinely for the first time in ages. With Papa knocked out cold for several days, I'd be able to live my life without him hovering over my shoulder. This was the life I dreamed of once I was free – I had a lover who was the equivalent of my husband at this point, a loyal confidant and best friend, and two kids that would grow up protected against the evils of this cruel world.

" _Hej_ , I heard Rosalina had the kid!" Water came stumbling in with the rest of his brothers in tow, clearly drunk from Unholy Grale. Their eyes widened in surprise when they saw both of the babies in my arms, even loudly gasping and mumbling things under their breaths.

" _Herrejavlar_ , Omega!" Alpha exclaimed. "Rosalina had  _two?_ "

"Yeah, she had twins." Omega chuckled sheepishly. "We got lucky!"

"Damn, and I'm their uncle!" Earth realized. "What are their names?"

"We've got Linnea, and then we have Damien."

"A reference to the Devil's child?" Air asked.

"Far from it," I told him.

"And to think you’re their father, Omega!" Alpha lumbered over to my bedside, Unholy Grale bottle still in hand as he gazed down at the twins squirming in my arms. "Not that bastard Emeritus, but Omega! He had the balls to—“

Alpha's drunken yells caused both of the twins to cry simultaneously. Sighing in annoyance that Alpha couldn't at least lower his voice in this moment of peace, I hushed the babies down, softly rocking them in my arms.

"Care to be quiet for a few moments at least, brother?" Omega asked. "They were just born ten minutes ago."

"Well, sorry." Alpha stepped back. "I'm only excited that we've got fresh blood in the Church now."

"Uhh..." I glanced over at Omega nervously. "I don't know if we'll be raising the kids with our beliefs. That stuff's too dark for them, especially with what Papa's done. But hey, can we at least celebrate their lives right now? I've gone through hell throughout my entire pregnancy, and the least we can do is be thankful that both Linnea and Damien are here and safe."

"And I've noticed that Mother has... passed," Air added uneasily, glancing at Mother's corpse. "It won't be that way for long, I'm afraid. You know the witches of the coven can easily bring themselves back to life."

Verona scoffed. "Well, I think that bitch has lived all her nine lives. There's no way she'll be coming back!"

"All right!" Water shouted in glee. A loud cough from Omega startled him. " _Skit_ , sorry. Babies, young children... I'm not used to them!"

"You best get used to them, brother," Omega warned, "because there might be some nights when you'll need to babysit for us."

Water's eyes went wide. "Babysit? I don't know how to babysit!"

Air put a hand on Water's shoulder and, much to my surprise, chuckled. "Perhaps I could show you how, Brother Water. After all, we've been very close for a while, haven't we?"

Water's memory seemed to falter. "Well... sort of, from what I can remember."

I smiled up at the Ghouls and Verona as I rocked the babies back to sleep in my arms, knowing that now, I had a family that cared about me. We'd get through Papa's hell together, our little team of sin.


	53. Death Knell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papa awakens from his illness and demands that Rosalie is brought to him.

The next day, Omega and I took up residence in the old priest's house a few feet away from the chapel. We'd be keeping the twins a secret from the worshippers, as Papa was still alive (but recovering in bed) and intended to use the child I gave birth to for his sacrifice. Every few days, Martin joined us for private get-togethers. He was currently in the process of moving his family to Los Angeles, as he found new work in the area. He even occasionally gifted us with old baby furniture his daughter grew out of, as well as other supplies we weren't able to sneak out and buy.

To keep myself sane in the middle of raising two babies, I continued my guitar lessons with Omega. They started to really help with getting the babies to go to sleep, as we found out that they liked music. We’d alternate sometimes, too. Omega would play while I sang, and vice versa. Granted, he did have to change the lyrics of Linnea’s lullaby at the spur of the moment to add in Damien.

But then, only a few days after we all got situated and comfortable, the monster sprung back to life and demanded there be a ritual as soon as possible - which meant tonight. Verona volunteered to stay behind and feign sickness so she could babysit Damien and Linnea. The other Ghouls even came to the house to go over our plans a final time, so that none of us messed up and spelled out the ending for us all.

"So, Rosalie, you're going to tell Papa all the things he did wrong to you," Water clarified, "and while he's distracted, trying to come up with an argument, I'm going to take his chalice and dump the vial of poison in the wine."

"And how am I going to cover up that I had twins?" I questioned.

"Say you had a miscarriage or something," Alpha replied. "Or better yet, the kid was a girl who died stillborn. It should do him in with the tragedy. Emeritus is rather fond of tragedy, especially if it sounds Shakespearian enough.”

"Also, we just got a call from our old bus driver from Sweden," Earth added. "He told us that he's able to come to the chapel and pick us up once we're done. He's finally back in the area after bussing around Sabaton for all these months."

Two hours quickly passed by after our meeting, reminding me that the monster was waiting for me. Omega ushered me into the atrium, where we were greeting with mostly angry, devout worshippers, silently glaring at us from behind their masks. The atmosphere reminded me of my first ever ritual, when I was ignorant and confused, the elephant in the room. I felt like I was being led to the gallows, my own execution.

“Omega, I’m scared,” I whispered, clinging to his arm.

“Don’t worry about him,” Omega said to me reassuringly. “Once we prove to him how he’s been wrong, he’ll realize that the only answer for him is death.”

I jumped as a cold hand pressed against my bare shoulder, and stifled back a scream when I saw it was Papa, his face gaunter and his eyes bloodshot.

“I—“ Nearly shaking, I forced my lips onto Papa’s, trying to emulate that I still loved him. “I’m so glad to see you, Papa! Are you doing better?”

“I see right through your act, girl,” Papa said coldly, right into my ear. “Try not to make any excuses while I ponder over how your blood will be spilled on the altar bed tonight.” He glared at Omega, who still stood next to me. “Leave us, Aether.”

“Yes, Father,” Omega said, joining his brothers up on the dais.

After the truncated dance of the virgins, Papa began his spiel. "My children, I understand that many things have happened in the past few months, some of which I wasn't informed about until very recently. First and foremost, the Church of Ghost has reached the pinnacle of its decline. Ever since I was forced to take a leave of absence in Vegas, nothing of what we have stood for remains anymore. What has happened to listening to what Mammon requests of you all? Why must you hold back your urge to indulge in your desires? We are not supposed to have limits here. But a certain someone in our atrium tonight has let the urge go to her head..."

Papa glared at me from the side of his white eye. "My wife has been... unfaithful to me. She stands before me now, no longer as the Prime Mover as I destined her to be. Did you all know that it is possible to break your sinful preacher's heart? Rosalina has discovered the way to tear my heart into shreds. She fell in love with one of my Ghouls behind my back, and she did not stop and consider that the love I could've given her was much more powerful than that of the Aether Ghoul's!"

All I could do was lower my head in shame, in sheer embarrassment for the sins I supposedly committed. Papa just sounded like some jealous old man, in my honest opinion. Just because he was the ruler of this Church didn't mean I had to love him. Love wasn't necessarily supposed to have limits!

“Her lust for this Ghoul seriously injures my heart, and it has rather literally happened. She has given birth to a child, and I reluctantly congratulate her, since the child is just what I need tonight.” Papa turned to me, pure rage in his eyes and voice. “Where is our son?”

“I…” I remembered what Alpha and Water told me to say. “I did not have a son, Papa. I had a daughter."

“Oh, a daughter, you say? Where is she now?” Pure anger and rage completely transformed Papa. Any trace of the passionate, charming persona he once took on around me was gone.

“She…she is…” I glanced over at Omega. He shook his head almost violently, reminding me not to reveal too much information.  
“She is dead, Papa. Her lungs gave out.”

"She is lying, Emeritus."

Everyone murmured to themselves and turned their heads as the reanimated corpse of Mother Superior entered the atrium, what Air warned us would happen. The spot where her head had cracked was still red with blood, but the rest of her body was grey and saggy, a deflated, retired temptress.

"I visited Rosalina in her bedroom while she was in labor," Mother Superior continued, "and I can confirm she has given birth to a daughter and a son of my own creation. Oh, and your precious little Verona Alcheri murdered me, trying to stop me from reminding you of our mission. I suppose she had forgotten I host the powers of reanimation at my will."

Omega jumped from the dais and rushed to my side as Papa charged towards me. I buried my head in Omega’s shoulder so I didn’t have to stare the monster in the eye, but Papa pulled me off of him, sharply turning me around to look in his flaring, angered eyes.

“ _Fottuto puttana!_ " For a second, I thought I saw tears forming in Papa's eyes. Crocodile tears, perhaps. "I loved you, Rosalina. I gave you everything you’ve ever wanted, and then you go off and defy me several times! I thought that my heart was yours."

“We all know that isn't true, Papa,” I said defiantly. “I’m the Church’s whore, remember? I’m supposed to fuck all your Ghouls in exchange for my ex-boyfriend’s freedom, and then you lured me away. You raped my mind. You made me leave my family. Hell, you even made me kill some of my friends! And you thought all of what I was forced to do would make me succumb to you? Quite frankly, it made me lose my fucking mind."

“I thought that’s what you wanted to do, Rosalina,” Mother Superior chastised. “You wanted to lose yourself.”

“Sure, I lost myself, but I lost my sanity as well." I confronted Papa, daring myself to stare right into his flaring eyes. “I played your game so I could survive. I never loved you at all."

Unsurprisingly, Papa sighed in disgust. “Get to the point, wife. I don’t need to pity you through your ramblings of information I already know.”

I stared him at him coldly. “I’d rather die a martyr than a whore!”

“Then so be it! If you’d like to die in the manner that your lover boy should’ve, then I shall tie you up and offer you to Mammon right now. Is that what you want?”

“If that’s what _you_ want.”

"You insolent girl!" A sharp slap met my face. "Shall I get Alpha to whip you into submission again?" Papa clearly wasn't taking shit anymore. "Get on the altar bed. And you, Aether Ghoul...” He turned to Omega and pointed at him with a shaky finger. “You'll get to watch your precious little darling suffer before it’s your turn."

I obeyed, stripping off the silk red dress I wore, revealing to the worshippers my stretch marks and leftover baby weight. I hopped onto the hard, wooden plank that served as the altar bed and spread my nude body out, waiting for the bounds to restrict me from fleeing. I waited several moments, perhaps even a minute, before noticing that the Ghouls stood before the altar bed, shielding me from Papa's harm.

"If you're going to kill Rosalina and then my brother, you're going to have to go through me first," Earth declared boldly.

"And me," Water added.

"And I," Air, much to my shock, said as well.

"And definitely me," Alpha said.

"Ww-what the hell, boys?" Papa asked incredulously. "Did you not take an oath before you were sworn into this ministry? Your pasts are dead, especially your little flings with Rosalina!"

"Rosalina is the only mistress we serve now," Earth told Papa. "She knew of our band's purpose much more than you or Mother Superior ever did. Our mission is to soothe the savage beast of the Infernal Majesty through music, to spread his psalms forth. It isn't about what you wanted, Emeritus. We never wanted fame. Only to share our passion for music and the darkness of this world."

Papa looked over at Mother Superior in shock. "Do you believe this, Madre? My boys are trying to defy me!"

"They are somewhat right, Emeritus," Mother said coldly, her thin lips curling into a smile. "You have let the Ghost project get to your head. You made the touring and the album all about you and your fame, while forgetting the true goal of what I have assigned. And for that, I declare you banished from the project."

The worshippers screamed and gasped, breaking out from the masses to fight against Mother Superior. While Earth continued his fight with Papa, Water snuck behind him and took out a little vial from his cassock.

Another one of the Ghouls helped me down. Thinking it was Omega, I tightly hugged him, but a veiny hand brushed against my cheek.

"Run," Air whispered, giving me back my gown. "Grab your children and your belongings and get the hell out of here."

"But what about you guys?"

"We'll be waiting by the tour bus. Once we have Papa poisoned, I ensure you there will be utter chaos. Now go."

Throwing my gown back on, I ran back to the house, ignoring the worshippers' chants and demeaning nicknames. As I made my way outside, their cries only became louder and violent, as if they had followed me out here, so once I returned to the house I slammed the door shut, leaning my back against it in case someone broke through.

"Rosalie, what's wrong?" Verona asked nervously, bouncing a crying Damien on her hip.

"Air told me to pack and get out of the house," I said quickly, throwing back on my gown. "They're about to kill Papa, and the worshippers are going nuts!" I rushed around the foyer, scrambling to place clothes inside of Damien and Linnea's car seats.

“Finally! I wish we were down there to see it happen. It’s going to be priceless!”

Martin burst into the foyer, panting heavily. “Water just gave Papa the wine,” he told us, shutting the door. “Papa’s very agitated, and all he’s doing now is fighting even more while the worshippers are going crazy. Need help, Rosalie?”

“If you would, Martin,” I replied, gesturing over to the car seats. “Verona, would you carry Linnea for me?”

Verona gave me Damien and lifted Linnea out of the crib and into her arms. She was fast asleep, her thumb stuck in her mouth. I tried to quiet Damien by bouncing him on my hip, singing the first few lines of the lullaby, but he wouldn’t stop. Quickly, I gently placed his red pacifier into his mouth, and at once, he stopped, his blue eyes growing heavy.

“I think we’ve got everything we can bring,” I said hurriedly, looking around the room one last time. There would be things that had to be left behind, such as some books and jewelry. “All right, let’s go. We need to be quick about this!”

We carefully rushed out of the priest's house, and as we entered the atrium, Air's warnings were indeed true. The atrium was in utter chaos, with worshippers screaming and crying and breaking out into fights. Papa was sprawled on his throne, dark blood contrasting with his greasepaint. His eyes were rolled to the back of his head, and there was no sign that he was breathing. Some of the female worshippers were already crawling up to his near-corpse, burying their heads into his chest and sobbing.

"Come on, let's go!" Verona loudly whispered.

But before we could make another move, Mother Superior walked right into our path, pushing back the masses of worshippers with her telekinetic power. However, she didn't seem ready to strike me or Damien, instead gently walking toward us.

"Because of you, the Church of Ghost has fallen," Mother Superior said to me, "but luckily, I will spare you of your actions. Papa has been nothing but a fool, destroying our sect's plans, and it was all because of his love for you. Love is only a concept, isn't it? It's nothing more than a proclamation of obsession and lust. It defeats everything, and the monsters inside of us. You—“

"Yeah, tell me something I don't already know, lady," I hissed.

Martin pushed aside Mother Superior with only his hip, allowing Verona to pass the crowd and reach the exit, all with Linnea in tow. I remained frozen in my tracks; a force was gravitating me toward Papa's throne. There was one more thing I wanted to tell the man who broke my heart and abused my soul before I left him here.

"Rosalie, what are you doing?" Martin shouted.

I ignored Martin, bending down on my knees to Papa's level. The female worshippers crowded over his body jolted their heads up and hissed like snakes, recoiling away in the small amount of jealousy they still held against just me. Papa had awakened slightly, his eyes back to normal but his breathing hitched. He was literally at death's door; he would fall over dead in a matter of minutes.

"What do you want, girl?" Papa rasped. "Come to break your husband’s heart more?”

"Before I leave you to die here all alone, I wanted you to see the son that would've been yours; the very child that would’ve given you your power.” I held out my infant son to Papa. “Meet Damien, Papa... he will be raised as the son of the Aether Ghoul."

Papa reached out his gloved hand and ran it through Damien's hair. "Such an innocent being," he murmured, his voice quivering. "So full of life, so... delicate, like you were. I've broken you so hard, my dearest Rosalina, smashed you to pieces. Please... before I die, please forgive me."

The monster's eyes were wide and pleading; this was no act. He seriously wanted my forgiveness. For what? I wondered. For humiliating me and torturing me and abusing me? The abuser cannot win. Monsters do not succeed in life.

However, I had to ease his parting blow. Carefully, I cupped Papa's painted cheek in my hand and kissed his blood-stained lips, returning the small bit of love I once felt for him. I slid off my wedding ring and placed it in his hand, the last memory he would have of me. Then, I spoke, my voice cold and distant.

“No.”

And with my final words to Papa said, I joined Martin, and ran.


	54. Out of Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The game concludes, and the heroes win.

The tour bus was parked in front of the chapel, the steam warming up my skin from the September night chill. Smiling to myself, I gripped onto the bus's handlebar and took a step inside, moving over slightly for Martin to lift up the car seats to the Ghouls. Water and Earth promptly took them to the back, while I handed Damien over to Verona. Staring at the chapel from the step, I couldn't believe this whole year of pain and torture was finally about to end, for good. Papa and Mother were gone, and Ghost's Infestissumam era was just another memory ingrained into the minds of the obsessive worshippers. The era of sin had ended with a triumph of light and a newfound hope.

Martin still stood in front of the bus, waiting for me to give him any further direction. There was a sad look in his eyes. This would most likely be the last time I'd ever see him. Like me, he received his freedom as well, and now he could live with his wife and daughter in peace. This chauffeur meant so much to me, as we helped each other endure Papa's tyranny. But now, since our tortured ends were through, when would we be able to talk to each other like normal people, and not hurt souls?

"Wait!" I stepped back down and gave Martin a tight hug, an unexpected one considering his sudden gasp. "Thank you so much for helping me, Martin." Grateful tears filled my eyes. "If it wasn't for you, we wouldn't be getting this happy ending."

"But where are you going?" Martin asked quietly.

"I don't know," I said wistfully. "I honestly don't know. But if there's any way I could let you know, I will."

"You're my savior, Rosalie. If it wasn't for you and how you intervened with that monster's game, I'd probably be another sacrifice by now."

My vision was blurry from tears. "I'm so glad I was able to help you. Make sure that kid of yours is safe, all right? And your wife, too."

"I will!"

I boarded the tour bus, rushing to the back. The worshippers now flooded out of the chapel like a stampede of wild animals, screaming at us to come back. When we made sure Martin safely made it to his Rolls Royce, the bus driver closed the doors and drove us away from the Church's chaos, passed the thicket of sequoia trees surrounding the chapel, and began our journey to the highway just a few minutes later.

My mouth started twitching as it formed a toothy grin, the first time I could ever smile in so long. I was so giddy now that Papa Emeritus II was finally dead, and for good this time. There was no more worrying about pleasing him or Mammon, no more public humiliation and the threat that I would be killed if I slipped. The only person we had to worry about now was Mother Superior, and even then, she would probably stay behind and fuck Papa’s corpse as far as I knew.

"Where are we going now?" Verona asked, watching the billboards for tourist attractions pass by. "We have no airline reservations, or any other concerts booked."

"Who knows?" Alpha replied, shrugging. "We'll find a way back to Linkoping soon. Whether or not we will induct Papa Emeritus the third shall be something to think of in the next few months."

"Or perhaps never," Earth Ghoul added jokingly.

As we passed by an exit sign for Las Vegas, I couldn't help but choke up, memories of the past coming back to mind. I knew it shouldn't matter much anymore, but the times when I'd amuse myself while writing, like when I sang in the wrong key so loudly that I annoyed Berkeley, were now gone. Gazing out of the window to observe the Vegas skyline and the Stratosphere, where I knew Damien was helping people into their ride vehicles almost a thousand feet above the ground, was a thing of the past now, too.

"Are you okay, Rosalie?" Verona asked me quietly.

I nodded, fighting back the tears I didn’t want to shed. "That sign for Vegas just reminded me of Damien and Berkeley, that's all.”

"They're free like us now," Omega said gently. "The past is dead now. It’s happened, and there's nothing more we can do to change it. We've got to adjust to the future. We were chased by death, but now, we're running free with life." He gestured toward Damien and Linnea sleeping in his arms. Linnea was curled up in the crook of his arm, while Damien rested against his chest.

"Must we go on with the metaphors, Omega?" I chuckled, trying to relieve myself of the pain.

"I've penned some stories in the past,” he said with a laugh.

"Well, that's a start, then."

Omega got up to place the twins in their car seats. When he returned, my body fell into his embrace.

"I love you so much, Rosalie. You've finally led us the way to our freedom."

"I'm glad I helped," I said tiredly, snuggling my head into his chest.

"Oh, wait! Before you go to sleep, there's one more thing I wanted to ask you."

I lifted myself up and saw that Omega had bent down on one knee in front of me.

"Rosalie, you've broken the spell that's cursed me to be the monstrous being I thought I was for many years. You relieved all the tension and negativity that Papa's placed in me, and you've shown me the way to something I thought I would never find if it wasn't for you. You've restored all my faith that I would continue to live, and... you were the only one that actually reached out to me and made sure my wellbeing was just as important as anyone else's. Rosalie Hammond, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

The Ghouls cawed and hollered with excitement, but when Omega gestured toward the babies, they quickly silenced themselves, eager for my answer.

"Say yes, Rosalie!" Verona said encouragingly.

"Why did you even need to ask me, Omega?" I giggled. "Of course I’ll marry you!"

The Aether Ghoul kissed me as the bus drove into the breaking California dawn, heading into the unknown. Despite not knowing where we were going yet, life was really the perfect balance now, a breath of pure, fresh air I hadn’t exhaled in so long. It was an exhilarating form of euphoria, and although an inch of my soul thought this was just a dream, I was certain that this was very much real life. And after all, this is the life I've always dreamed of. Love had indeed won, triumphing over evil, and I fought bravely, even if I was so close to succumbing to evil. I brought light back into the darkness, and I didn’t feel ashamed.

Not at all.


	55. Born to Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosalie and the Ghouls begin their lives anew. Smut!

**MARCH 2015**

**Linköping, Sweden**

I almost forgot how cold the snow is, freezing and nipping at your skin like shark's teeth. My first winter in Linköping turned out to be brutal, one that left thick lines of frost on the red-tinted windows of the Basilica de Ghuleh. The snow helped me think, reflect on the past that seemed more like a series of film scenes rather than events that actually happened almost a year ago. The people involved were now cold and lifeless, left out to freeze. I had been broken, abused, and manipulated, but in the end, I rose from the ashes, rising back to life like the first day of spring. In the end, I succeeded in my mission to find myself, and although I had to fight through the worst of the pain, I learned how to bend people to my own will.

I draped myself with my hooded cloak and went outside. The moonlight glistened against the snow and the red light beaming from the chapel stained the soft hills of snow with crimson. The cold wind nipped at my nose and watered my eyes, but the cold was almost refreshing after being so warm. Winter served as the serial killer of nature, killing everything that once blossomed with life. Soon, the sun would shine brightly again, restoring life back to the ones that felt the most dead. Sometimes, I had to remember not all things thrived in the darkness every day like me - not all people knew how to balance the dark with the light.

I took out one of Omega's cigarettes from my pocket and lit it, letting the thin line of smoke drift through the air. I couldn't believe that it's been six months since I gave birth to Damien and Linnea, six months since my life changed for the better... six months since the downfall of Papa Emeritus II. Right now, the twins were sleeping peacefully in their cribs, their little minds free from the nightmares that still seized my mind for moments at a time. Outside was too cold for them anyway - the twins were fragile little beings, their minds even more. When the Ghouls lay their eyes upon them, they were astounded by their innocence, a valued possession they lost a long, long time ago. There hadn't been this much light brought into the Church in forever.

"Trying to get accustomed to the Swedish cold, _min älskling?_ "

I turned to my new husband and smiled warmly. Omega and I got married last week, in a small ceremony with no one but the other Ghouls and Verona in attendance. The wedding wasn't anything huge or official, merely a simple declaration of our love for each other and our promise to stay together for as long as we shall live. It was too dangerous for the Swedish government to know about the Ghost Project, so of course our marriage wasn't exactly legal or official. Besides, it was what we felt in our hearts that truly mattered.

" _Ja_ ," I murmured, stomping on the cigarette. "Definitely the worst winter I've ever been caught in."

Omega let out a chuckle. "Welcome to Linköping, love. It's always cold as the dead here." He then wrapped his arm around me and I fell into his embrace, watching the snow gently fall. His hand rested against my hip as his fingertips gently stroked the outline of my waist. Since we were always occupied with clergy duties or taking care of the twins, Omega and I hadn't been too intimate in a while. Even then, there is more to love than partaking in the sins of the flesh.

"It's funny how you're back where you started," I told Omega, entwining my fingers with his. "You're back here in Linköping, in the same chapel. Does it feel... sad at all?"

"No, not at all. In fact, the Basilica brings back memories of better times, simpler moments. I never asked for fame, just the gift to play music. Everything's being taken with a smaller approach now... and that's what I like. I've changed, and so has life. To everyone else down there, I'm merely another shadow thriving at night."

"Not to me you aren't." I moved away Omega's hood and lifted up his mask - I was the only person allowed to do so these days - and ran my hand along a stone cold cheek. "You're my husband. A father. A talented musician. And even though you're seen as just another Nameless Ghoul in the Ghost project, you're so much more to me. No one's going to know about the life you secretly live. Time's passing on, and we are too, but we're stuck in the same place. But who cares? Let life over there go on without us. We've got our own shit to worry about."

Omega was silent as he caressed my face, taking time to feel up the soft, velvety skin he had lost himself. Then, he brought me into his arms and kissed me, giving me one of those kisses that was innocent at first, but transformed into something wild. The inside of my body was becoming warm and tight, a sign that lust was soon to take over. Omega then carried my body into the woods, running his lips along my flesh, and set me down on a bed of soft, snow-covered greenery. Now that we were alone, my cloak and dress was discarded with a ravaging pull, and Omega's mouth immediately went for my breasts, running his tongue along the stiff buds. He placed a hand on my cunt, firmly massaging it, and his eyes widened in satisfaction when he saw me squirm and hold back the urge to scream.

And did he care? Of course he didn't. He slid a finger inside of me and stroked my inner walls, making me howl like the wolves one could find in the forest surrounding us. My animalistic cries echoed and pierced through the silence, scaring away the innocent animals gathered nearby that watched us embrace. I drew my fists into the clumps of snow, trying not only to endure Omega's touch but more so the nipping cold against my naked skin.

"Omega... stop..." I gasped out. "It's... too cold... I'm shivering..."

"I'm sorry, love. Would you like to move inside?"

I grinned. "Of course."

Once we arrived into the warmth of our bedroom, Omega impaled me with his love, thrusting into me with the wild passion that initially made me fall for him. I stared lovingly into his blue eyes, even as he had me practically restrained to the bed with his slight girth. As he rocked inside me back and forth, I wondered how did our relationship even get so far? We went from victims to secret lovers to parents, all while under Papa's cruel reign. Not once did Omega break the mold like his brothers did and become only a servant for the Church, and he even managed to keep a hold of the human memories that made him a person and not a mere shadow that followed Papa's every word. I love Omega, I really do. He kept a hold of his heart not just to save his brothers, but for me as well.

And now, he's mine forever.

Right when the orgasm was about to rip through me, we were both startled by the shrill cries coming from two babies - our twins. I arched my head up to see my children sitting up in their wooden cribs, their faces reddened and wet with tears. Linnea was petrified, her blue eyes widened with the same horror she had when she accidentally saw Omega without his mask on one night, while Damien hid his eyes with the teddy bear in his small hands.

"Fuck, Omega!" I gently pushed my husband off of me with a chuckle. "So much for you being Linköping's Father of the Year, huh?"

“Oh shut it, you,” Omega said teasingly as he buttoned up his cassock. “They got scared, that’s all.”

“Well, now that our sex lives have thankfully returned to us, we’re going to have to make love somewhere else.” I giggled. “Now come on, we’re going to be late for ritual.”

“We’re bringing the kids?" Omega asked in concern. "Normally Damien freaks out whenever he hears the word ‘Satan’.”

“We’ve got no choice now. Go ahead and go up with Linnea, I’ll be there in a minute.”

Omega lifted Linnea out of her crib and left the room while I dressed in my black ritual gown and placed my Grucifix necklace around my neck, the same one Omega gave me when we first became friends. I ran my finger along the silver chain and took a deep breath, reminding myself that now, life finally seemed at peace. There was no sign of a new Papa emerging just yet, and Mother Superior hadn't shown her old face since we escaped from Los Angeles. Sometimes, though, I still worried about the future. What would happen when Papa returned to claim his throne and the Church became corrupted again? Perhaps the new Papa would be a different man, kinder and more open than his older brother.

Shaking my head, I took Damien and bounced him on my hip. "Please forgive Mommy and Daddy for what they did in front of you. We didn't mean to scare you! We just like to... um... play with each other every once in a while." Thankfully, Damien started to coo. "See, pleasure isn't all that bad. It hurts after a while, but soon it becomes the best feeling you can ever have. But what am I telling you this now? You're a baby! You don't need to know any of this! You have all the time in the world to explore life and its strange wonders, my little darling."

 _My little darling._  I can’t think about Papa anymore. He would only destroy me again.

"Rosalina..." A man's accented voice, guttural and lilting, whispered right in my ear.

"What was that?" I glanced down at Damien, who was transfixed by something, or someone, outside. "Are you seeing anything, little buddy? Huh? Are you seeing something Mommy can't see?" But Damien began to wail again. "Oh no... Damien, please don't cry! We're going to go upstairs and see your Daddy and all your uncles and Auntie Verona, what do you think of that?"

A dark-haired man dressed in a black and purple chasuble and a white and gold miter strolled from out of the trees and toward my window. He slid a golden fingertip against the glass and brought the decapitated, eyeless head of Papa Emeritus II up to the window, as if to remind me of the ghost of my past. 

"Ww-who are you?" I shouted. "You're not welcome here!”

"My damn brother isn’t a match for  _my_  power." The new Papa glowered at me, staring with the same cold, mismatched eyes as his brother. “When I rise, humankind will be doomed again, through the rise of The Kingdom of Meliora.”

I avoided the new Papa's gaze, instead concentrating on getting Damien to calm down. Papa couldn't be back so soon. This was only some illusion conjured up to scare me. But when I gazed into the forest again, the ghost from the future had disappeared from the window. Damien's coos had resumed, his eyes widened like he had seen the most amazing thing in his life.

“He isn’t your father,” I said to my son nervously, taking his small chin in my hand. “That freak is not your father! Listen, Damien, there are both good and bad people in this world, and any of the men who call themselves Papa Emeritus are immediately bad. Please, please understand that.” His little hand started to grab at my breast. “Okay, let’s go up now. Daddy’s waiting for us.”

I ran my hand through Damien’s dirty blonde hair and walked up the stairs, all while his gaze was continually focused on the forest behind him. Maybe we had both hallucinated seeing the third Papa Emeritus through some weird psychic link between mother and son. Or worse, maybe the both of us were linked to the Papas, both dead and living, in ways we thankfully didn’t know of at the moment. But either way, I knew how to stand my ground. 

Omega waited for me by the entrance to the atrium. I smiled and took his hand, not looking behind me in case Papa had decided to enter the chapel. If the monster wanted to come out and play, he’d have to play my game first, like I was taught. He’d have to learn that life’s a chiaroscuro painting, and you had to mix together the light with the dark. Contrast is what kept you sane, especially if you knew how to balance it well.

And besides, I’ve got no sympathy for the devil anymore.


End file.
